


Finding A Light (When You're In The Dark)

by DarkAlpha67



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe- NO Werewolfs, Assassin Derek Hale, Derek Hale has Scars, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, FBI!Stiles, Fluff, Hacking, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Self-Hatred, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, alternative universe, writer!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: Derek Hale had a mission. He had a job to do but one small meeting with a mysterious boy changed every plan he ever had.Is this mysterious stranger a threat? Or is he the answer Derek has been looking for?





	1. Chapter 1- The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first fic. This idea came to me and I decided what the hell... I hope you like it.

This cannot be happening. Here he is, in a quiet coffee shop and his laptop decides to freeze. It decides to freeze and The Boss is going to send him an email in exactly five minute, like always. And this stupid, piece of useless shit decides now to freeze. Stabbing the keys, Derek tries to get it to work. He long ago shrugged off his leather jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dark green Henley. Taking a shot, he bangs the side of the laptop screen but the only thing it does is hurt his hand.

The empty chair in front of his scrapes against the floor and someone sits down. “Hi.”

Looking up sharply, Derek sees a boy sitting in front of him, with his head tilted and a boyish smile on his pale pink lips. Derek just stares at him blankly for a second before looking down.

“I’m not interested.” He states, his voice bored and dull. While he may be beautiful, Derek doesn’t have time for people right now.

“Me neither.” 

Derek pauses at his words and looks back up to see the boy’s smile has widened and his dark eyebrows raised at him. It’s then that he actually notices just how attractive he really looks. His dark brown hair is messy and standing up is various directions, giving him a troublesome look, his porcelain skin, dotted with moles, brings out the luscious pale pink of his lips but it’s his eyes that catches Derek’s attention. It’s an intoxication shade of whiskey brown.

“What?” The boy asks. “You assume just because you’re good looking, every single person you meet wants to get in your pants?"

The corners of Derek’s lips tug up in the barest of smiles. The urge to smile is foreign and Derek can’t remember the last time he smiled. Really smiled… He continues staring at the boy and when all he does is stare back unaffected by the cold shoulder, Derek cautiously allows his guard, just for a moment, to drop.

“I’m sorry.” He says, nodding his head slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The boy looks at him and smiles. “Then you need to work on how to phrase things.”

Derek lets out a small laugh. “I will remember that for next time.”

“It’s okay. You probably based that little assumption on past facts. I mean, you are good looking so I’m sure girls have tried to jump you before.”

The way he says it, in that straight forward, matter of fact tone gives Derek the impression that the boy speaks his mind most of the time. Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing, is still debatable. Not everyone is deserving of the truth and not everyone can be trusted with the truth.

“Actually. I came over here because it looked like you were about to murder that poor thing.” The boy tells him, pointing to the laptop.

Derek chuckles at the look the boy gives his laptop like it’s a homeless puppy.

“It’s frozen.” Derek says.

“Oh.” The boy says with shrug.

Derek doesn’t even have time to react before the boy turns the laptop around and starts typing. Derek can’t help but stare at him in shock, watching as his whiskey brown eyes fly across the screen, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth, curled slightly against his bottom lip and before he knows it the boy turns the laptop back to face him and gives him a triumph smile. Hesitantly, Derek looks down at the laptop and moves his mouse, watching with shock as it following his every move.

He looks up in shock. “What did you do?”

The boy looks at him and shrugs in a nonchalant way. “I got magic fingers.”

Derek presses his lips down to try and keep his smirk at bay at the double meaning behind the stranger's words. He is tempted to ask if his fingers vibrate but he keeps his thoughts to himself. All he says is a small thank you. The boy raises a cup that Derek hadn’t even realized he brought with him before nodding.

Taking a sip, the boy stands up from the chair.

“Wait.” Derek blurts out, before he can stop himself.

The boy pauses and looks back at him with both his eyebrows raised in question.

“You never told me your name.”

“So?”

The side of Derek’s lips tugs up as he stares at the boy in front of him. Derek allows his eyes to travel down, taking in the tight black jeans, the graphic shirt with a Batman logo under a red and black checkered shirt with a red hoodie thrown over it. He finally meets the boy’s eyes that are almost sparkling with question.

“So, I’m interested.”

A smile slowly spreads across his lips as the boy stares at him.

Derek holds the stare, allowing the stranger to size him up.

“Stiles. My name’s Stiles.”

 _Stiles_.

It suits him almost perfectly. It sounds made up, no doubt, but also sweet and innocent. It sounds like _everything_ Derek isn’t.

A small ding from his laptop pulls Derek back from the moment. His once relaxed body tenses up and his eyes immediately locks onto the screen in front of him. Clenching his jaw he looks up to Stiles, only to see the spot where he once stood empty. Shrugging off the small twinge of disappoint, he turns his attention onto the email in front of him.

He has a job to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking out of the old building, the pain in his shoulder causes him to grimace. Derek can feel the blood trailing down his skin, slowly and tortuously. His had worse, his body shows proof of it every day. But those wounds has long since turned to scars and the memories has long since turned to nightmares that he relives at night constantly.

He holsters the gun on his thigh and limps away from the building, pressing the button in his left hand before dropping the device. Derek doesn’t flinch as the old building behind him explodes, the heat burning his back, daring and tempting him to glance back and admire his work but he continues to limp towards his Camaro.

He opens the door and slides his leg aching from the fight.

His cell rings and he answers it already knowing who it is.

“Good work, Agent.” The deep voice of his boss says.

Derek doesn’t answer, he never does. He just waits for his boss to continue.

“You next target will be harder. This operation took months to put together. Do not fail us.”

And with that she hangs up.

Derek tosses the phone onto the empty passenger seat and only then does he turn to look at the burning building. The pleading voice of the men, who are currently burning in there, still rings freshly in his ears. Their; _please, please don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. Please, I have a family!_

Every plea, was answered with a punch, with a stab and with two bullets to their legs, hindering any plan of escape. As the building burns down, the flames breaking out from the exploded windows as if trying to escape, he feels a part of himself burn with it. He feels a small burst of satisfaction, watching as the flames burn those who once did the same to the people he loved.

They deserve this. No matter who they are in the shadows, no matter what they did in the past. They all deserve this.

Turning on the Camaro, he take off, leaving a long trail of dust behind, silent and emotionless.

When he gets back to the loft, he turns on the news and walks to get his first aid kit.

Every step he takes, sends a dull wave of pain that would have been, that should have been excruciating, if his body was not use to it. One of the men got the drop on him and sliced his arm. Taking off his shirt, Derek looks down at the thin line of open skin, knowing it will soon become just another scar. Working on autopilot, Derek threads the needle through his skin and tucks, stitching himself up and then wrapping a bandage around his arm.

_“Yes, John, I have just arrived at the scene. The firemen are currently trying to get the fire under control…”_

He listens to the news cast who have arrived at the scene he was at hours ago, taking footage of the firemen putting out the fire but Derek knows it useless. All they are going to find is the body of a man who was the sole investor in an organization that helps children from Africa, China and India. A man who gave those children an education and a life. They will find the body of another man he was working with, one of them being the Head of a Human Trafficking Rink.

_“Wait- These is something there…. Is that…?”_

The news reporter says something else and Derek looks up from where he is disinfecting his wounds to see the camera zooming in on the scene behind her. Derek watches a trailer comes into focus show-casting one of the police officer’s leading out a small girl, who is soon then followed by many.

Derek wants to smile, but he can’t. He had a mission and he completed it, the only problem with that is that he killed a man who has a son, a man who has a pregnant wife at home and a man who has nothing to do with anything, he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and Derek couldn’t save him on time.

Shutting of the TV, he makes his way over to the bedroom and gets into bed but he knows it is pointless.

He won’t be getting any sleep.

_“Derek… Derek… Derek.”_

_The feeling of electricity running through his entire body pulls him slowly and painfully from the numb darkness. He grunts, feeling the sweat run down his chest, feeling the chains that are bounding his hands burning around his wrists._

_“There you are, baby.” A sickeningly sweet voice says._

_He doesn’t want to but Derek forces his eyes open, staring at the cemented ground inches below the tip of his toes as he dangles from the ceiling. He hears the hum of the generator before the excruciating pain of power rund through his body from his side. His throat hurts, his chest tightens. He wants to lock his teeth together, he wants to curl his hands into a fist, he wants anything to grip onto, anything to hold onto through the pain. There is a loud sound, echoing through room, filling the room as if it is trying to express just exactly how he is feeling._

_The pain stops, but his entire body still buzzes._

_“Oh, how I love it when you scream.”_

_That was him? Was that really him? Is that why his throat is so sore?_

_Where is his team?_

_What is taking them so long?_

_“Are you ready to talk yet, Derek?” A voice whispers right into his ear, a warm gush of breathe washes over the side of his face._

_Derek takes a deep breathe, gathering the strength to turn his head to the side and glare at the woman before him. Her blonde hair is still in place, her hazel brown eyes that was once so sweet, stares back at him with a menacing, twisted glint in them._

_“No?” She answers, a small smirk playing on her lips as she tilts her head to the side._

_When Derek doesn’t answer her, she laughs and turns around, walking back to the generator. She spins around, jetting her hip out as she reaches out, and brings down the hatch._

_A scream leaves Derek’s mouth, but it gets drowned out by the melodic laugh of Kate as she continues to hold down the hatch, letting waves and waves and waves of electrical power run through his body._

_“Oh yeah, Derek… Scream all you want. Nobody is going to hear you… And no one is going to come for you.”_

He sits up with a gasp, the scream caught in his throat. His heart drums against his rib cage, slamming and slamming, begging to break free. Derek sits there, with sweat matting his forehead, trailing down his bare chest. The sheets that have pooled around his waist are gripped in his hands, his fingers grasping onto the thin material.

Kate. Kate. Kate. Kate.

Her name chants in his head.

She was right. No one ever came for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek looks down at the book in his hands, feeling a small smile play on his lips. He runs his fingers over the worn out cover of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Derek can still recall the soft, wonderful voice of his mother reading to him and his sisters as they all sit in front of the fire place, huddled together with a cup of Cocoa in each of their hands…

To his innocent six year old mind, he had a world waiting for him once he finished school. A world filled with wonder and adventure. His baby sister could be his Ron, loyal and an idiot, and his older sister could be his Hermione, annoying and a know-it-all.

With one last look at the book, Derek lets out a sigh as he reaches out and puts it back on the shelf.

“So we meet again.”

Turning around at the sound of the voice, he almost bumps into a body. Derek leans back the moment the warm body brushes against his chest. He stares in shock as whiskey eyes and a playful smirk greets him.

_Stiles…_

“What are you doing here?” He asks, but winces at the sound of his accusing tone. He opens his mouth to apologies when a small laugh cuts him off.

“Still making assumptions I see.” Stiles looks at him but grimace and it’s then that Derek takes note of the books stacked under each of his arms. Not saying anything, Derek reaches out and takes the stack of books that looks about ready to tilt back and fall all over the floor under his left arm.

Stiles lets out a small breath of relief.

“Thank you.” He says before turning around and walking away.

All Derek can do is follow him, trying not to stare at the way Stiles’ jeans hugs his ass as he leans down and places the books on the table that is already covered with others. Derek places his stack next to him, noticing that all the book are about Folk Lore and Mythology.

“Is this all for you?” He can’t help but ask.

Stiles looks up at him through long dark lashes. Derek swallows and looks down. When he looks up again, Stiles is busy rearranging the book on the table.

“Yeah. I need to brush up on my knowledge.” He answers. Derek stares at him in confusion but thankfully he continues to talk. “I’m an author.”

Derek looks at him, impressed. “Really?”

Stiles nods and glances over at the books. “Yeah. I’ve had this thing for mythology since I was a kid and so I thought, since I know so much, why not just write about it.” He says with a shrug.

Derek nods, the corner of his lips tugging up into a smile. Stiles regards him once more with a small head tilt. “What do you do?”

Derek tenses up at the question. He rubs his thumb and trigger finger together.

_Flashes of gun fire, a storm of hailing bullets. Screams and blood, followed by more and more and more…_

“I’m a contractor.”

“Really? You don’t look like a contractor.” Stiles comments, his eyes moving over Derek’s entire frame.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “And what do I look like?”

He watches as Stiles’ eyes snap up towards him and a small teasing smile appears on pouty lips. He shrugs, turning around and taking a seat on the chair.

“A model.” Stiles answers, grinning up at him. A chuckle leaves Derek's lips as his shoulders slump down ever so slightly.

Derek takes his time to regard Stiles in that instance as the younger boy grins up at him. The carefree way in which he holds himself, the easy manner in which he jokes with Derek, unashamed and bashful. It makes Derek curious about the person that lurks behind those innocent brown eyes.

He has a mission no doubt, but The Boss told him to lay low for a few months. After his job two weeks ago, many organization and cartels will be on edge. They would be expecting an attack and Derek isn’t the kind of man to attack someone without giving them the opportunity to wait it out… after all nothing is more exhilarating than fighting an enemy who thinks they have the upper hand.

Narrowing his eyes, Derek moves to slide into the seat.

“So, Stiles…”

“Hmm?”

“Forgive me if I am reading this situation wrong, but would you like to go out to dinner with me?” He asks, watching in amusement as Stiles’ eyes widen and as his mouth parts, opening and closing numerous times.

“Like a date?” Stiles squeaks out, the shock clear in his voice.

Derek feels a smirk already forming, in both amusement and satisfactory at the reaction he ignited from Stiles.

“Yes, precisely like that.”

Silences falls upon them as Stiles looks down at the book in front of them.

Derek waits patiently, not worried in the slightest. He knows he hasn’t read the situation wrong, not that being attracted to men is something one can call off the bat, but the look in Stiles eyes whenever their fixed on Derek is something Derek has seen many times, from both women and men. So he sits, with his hands clasped in front of him on the table, taking note of the way Stiles’ eyes are bouncing around.

When honey brown eyes finally raises, a small smile is playing on Stiles’ lips.

“Sure. When and Where?”

“How about you give me your address and I pick you up tomorrow.”

Stiles’ looks at him for a second before pulling out a pen. He writes across his notebook and scribbles something down, tearing it off before handing it Derek.

Shocked, Derek reaches across the small space between them having not really expected him to actually give him his address.

“You know you shouldn’t give your address to guys you don’t know.”

Stiles looks at him with a small and adorable frown. “What are you going to do? Kill me?”

The smile falters on Derek’s lips at his words.

“Well you never know.” Derek answers him seriously.

Stiles just rolls his eyes at him. “Believe me, anyone crazy enough to stalk me will have a huge surprise waiting for him. I got a bat, locked and loaded for any nutjobs.”

Derek shakes his head and slips the piece of paper into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Well, it was nice running into you, Stiles.” Derek says as he stands up. “I’ll be seeing you soon”

Stiles gives him a grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow-”

He stops mid-way, his eyes widening. “Oh my God, I don’t even know your name. I just gave you the address to my secret sanctuary and I don’t even know your name. My god, Scott’s right… I am reckless. You know what, on second thought, I change my mind. You can just give me back that piece of paper and then we can start over and then, I can give you my address. How does that sound?”

Derek feels laughter rise up in his chest and he allows it to spill out in the form of a small chuckles.

“It’s Derek.”


	4. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek go out on their date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is long over due, I just had a long ass writers block for this story and I kinda lost my feel for it but it has returned, for how long I am not sure.. But I want to thank everyone for liking it and for commenting..

Derek pulls up outside a small, modest house. He parks his motorbike on the curb, looking around the area. He takes it in, the different houses, the character in which they have, an outer and visible expression on the different families that each live in the small area.

He sees the curtain from an upstairs bedroom opening and closing. With a smirk, he takes off his helmet, shuts off the engine of the bike before he unmounts it. Slowly, Derek tucks his helmet under his arm and makes his way towards the house.

He glances around him, seeing a neighbor across the street openly staring at him. Shaking his head, he makes his way up to the small steps and knocks on the door. He takes a step back, running his over the sides of Stiles’ house, taking in the small patch of flowers growing there, the way the lawn looks like it is done regularly.

He hears shuffling and turns just in time to see the door being flung open, a beautiful red-head coming into view. Her bright green eyes narrow at him, her red painted pouty lip purse as she runs her eyes over him.

“Can I help you?”

Derek stares at her, not sure what to say. He opens his mouth a few times, before reaching into his pocket to pull out of paper where Stiles had written his address and he double checks, sees it is the house that Stile has given.

For a second he thinks, he might have been played and Stiles hadn’t actually given him his actual address.

“Are you Derek?” The woman asks him.

Relief washes over him and Derek gives her small nod.

Before the woman can say anything else, another girl appears behind her. An equally gorgeous brunette, with sweet features but sharp eye.

“This him?” She asks the red-head.

The redhead narrows her eyes at him. “It would appear so.”

The women then both proceed to turn their eyes solely on him, narrowed and suspicious as if scrutinizing every small movement Derek makes. At this point, Derek is scared to even breathe in fear that he might be doing it wrong.

He shakes his head because this is utterly ridiculous. He is a grown man and more than that, he is a training manipulator. He has infiltrated organization for years, how can two strangers terrify him like this.

“Lydia! Allison!”

The women turn around, giving Derek enough room to watch Stiles stumble down the stairs, his feet moving so fast, he looks ready to fall flat on his face but he catches himself on the wall. When he looks up, Derek’s breathe hitches in his throat, his heart stopping as he takes Stiles in.

His messy hair, is spikes and styles, giving him a devil-may-care look. Gone is the plaid and in its place, is a simple dark grey shirt with matching calf-hugging tight jeans and sneakers but what takes Derek’s attention, is the black leather jacket is he as on.

“Please for the love of God, do not scare him.” He rushes forward but comes to a stop when he lock’s eyes with Derek.

He opens his mouth, running his eyes over every inch of Derek’s body, swallowing thickly. “Wow, suddenly I feel like an idiot in this jacket.”

Derek smirks. “You sure don’t look like an idiot, I can tell you that.”

His neck flushes and they continue to stare at one other, neither saying a word until a loud, clearing throat pulls them back. Stiles’ snap over to Lydia and Allison, his looks confused for a second before he shakes his head.

“Oh, right. Uh, Lydia, Allison, this is Derek.” Stiles introduces.

Derek looks away from the gorgeous boy and over to the women. The redhead takes a step forward and then suddenly Derek understands why these women terrified him. Her outer appearance may come off as stuck up and drop-dead gorgeous but her eyes hold some mystery. As if she sees everything and takes everything in and Derek has no doubt she is the kind of woman that would use whatever knowledge she gains of him against him.

“Lydia Martin, pleasure.”

Derek takes her hand and gives it a firm shake, holding eye contact.

The corner of Lydia’s lips tug up.

The other woman, Allison, he assumes, steps forward and he forces himself to meet her eyes. While Lydia may have some off as the dumb-beauty, Allison comes off as the innocent damsel.

Her sweet, dimpled smile could fool anyone, Derek is sure but her hard eyes lets him know she has been through her own hard trails and she has come out a survivor. Something he can sympathize with, if he was the sympathetic kind.

“Allison Lahey.” She introduces.

Derek nods to both women, giving Allison the same treatment he had given Lydia, holding eye contact and giving her a firm handshake. These woman seems like the kind that deserves respect.

“Derek Hale… It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

The women turns to Stiles.

Allison smiles and nods her head. “You were not kidding, he is gorgeous.”

Stiles squeaks. “Okay, how about we keep stuff like that just between us. Beside, he’s here for me and you’re married. So both of you back off.”

Lydia laughs. “I am engaged, Stiles.”

“And Jordan is a sweet guy but we can both agree he won’t win against Derek. In anything.”

Warmth spreads over his face at the in-your-face compliment Stiles just dished out but neither Stiles nor Lydia look at him.

Lydia narrows her eyes. “Just leave, before I kick your ass for insulting my future husband.”

Stiles opens his mouth but one small head tilt and raised eyebrows from Lydia has him snapping his jaw shut. He huffs, leans over to press a kiss against both Allison and Lydia’s cheek.

“Thank you both, for everything.”

Allison nods and Lydia smiles.

With one deep breathe, Stiles turns around to look at Derek with wide expectant eyes. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

Derek laughs, giving the ladies one last respectful nod before he steps aside for Stiles and they make their way over to the bike.

“Oh shit.” Stiles mutters as he stares at the bike, his eyes widening the closer to gets. “You really doing wonders for that bad boy look.”

Derek huffs, reaching into the seat compartment for the extra helmet, handing it to Stiles.

Stiles stares at him, looking over his shoulder to Allison and Lydia who both give him a thumbs up. Derek watches with amusement as Stiles sucks in a deep breathe, puffing out his chest and takes the helmet from Derek, shoving it over his head.

Derek laughs when Stiles turns to look at him, the large helmet and his squished cheek making me look even more adorable.

“Let’s do this.”

 

**_________________________________**

 

They arrive at the restaurant in no time. Derek, parks the bike and cuts the engine. The arm around his has not loosen, and he finds it hard to laugh with the death grip Stiles has around his waist.

“We’re here.”

Stiles nod but doesn’t move.

“You need a minute?”

Stiles nods.

Derek bites down on his bottom lip, keeping the laughter in as much as he can. He may have sped just a little on their way over here, so having Stiles’ arm around him doesn’t bother him that much. He takes the time to look around, scanning the area, even though he already checked it out before making reservation at the restaurant.

Slowly, the arms loosen and Stiles shifts back just a bit. Derek waits as the younger man grips Derek’s shoulders and unmounts the bike, his fingers gripping on to the material. When he is off, Derek follows and takes off his own helmet.

Stiles’ long, pale fingers grip the black helmet and when he takes it off, Derek sees how much paler he looks, so much that the color has drained from his lips. The way Stiles swallows every now causes Derek to frown.

“Do you want to throw up?”

Stiles swallows and nods.

His eyes widen and Derek rushes over, gripping onto his arm, he gently steers him away to a dark corner. Just as they reach it, Stiles bends over and vomits. The sour smell makes Derek grimace but it doesn’t both him much.

He takes to rubbing Stiles’ back, smoothing him as he pukes once more.

“Fuck.” Stiles mutters once he is done.

Derek say nothing, just rubs his back. When Stiles is truly done, he straightens up and leans against the wall, given Derek a view of his flushed face, his watery eyes but at least the color on his face is back.

“God, I’m so sorry.”

Derek shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“This must be like the worse date ever…” Stiles mumbles.

Gunfire and blood flashes through his head and Derek finds himself shaking his head once more.

“It’s not, believe me… But…”

Stiles looks over to him, his brown eyes filled with worry.

Derek looks over to the restaurant, thinking for a second. “I know that salty foods can help with nausea… So how about instead of going to the restaurant, we go to that diner just a few blocks from here. I hear they have awesome curly fries and shakes to die for.”

Stiles gapes at him. “Are you serious? I mean- I get it if you want to leave—“

Derek cuts him off by shaking his head. “This date isn’t over yet but we might as well go somewhere where we will actually enjoy ourselves.”

“Dude, are you for real? Like how can you be really real?”

Derek grins at him and gently takes Stiles elbow, moving away from the vomit and towards the diner.

“How about I drop you off, you order us something. I come back here to get my bike and meet you at the diner?”

Stiles quietens down, biting the corner of his lips before he nods.

 

**___________________________________**

 

When Derek returns, he parks his bike where he has a clear view of it. In one of the windows he sees Stiles talking on his phone, waving his hands around madly.

Frowning Derek unmounts the bike and pulls his keys out of the ignition. Something causes his gut to tighten and he knows it has something to do with Stiles. Following his instinct, Derek makes his way into the diner and over to Stiles, who is sitting on the far right side.

“What? Do you think I’m an idiot! ---Lydia you are not listen--- What the hell do you mean wait it out?--- Lydia I swear to god I am not stay—“

As Derek slides into the booth, Stiles cuts himself off. His jaw hangs open, his eyes widen in shock. The phone however remains pressed against his ear and even from where he is sitting, he can hear Lydia’s concerned voice calling Stiles’ name.

“Uh- Yeah…” Stiles stutters, his eyes still locked on Derek, “Yeah, uh, Derek just go here so… Okay.”

He hangs up and puts the phone done. Derek says nothing because even from that conversation and the small amount of information he obtained, he is sure he just heard Stiles telling Lydia, he was planning on leaving.

“Sorry.” Stiles says, swallowing thickly. “It’s just… you were taking long and I uh---“

Following his train of thought, Derek finishes his sentence for him, “You thought I left you here.”

Stiles gapes at him.

“I apologize, I should have phrased my words better.”

“It’s a work in progress since the last time we met.” Stiles interjects lightly, trying to douse the obvious tension that had built up the moment Derek sat down.

Thankfully, a waitress arrives with their food. She places a beacon and cheese burger down in front of him with a good portion of curly fries. Derek frowns and looks over to see Stiles had the same order, only with extra fries.

“I uh, sort of ordered the same thing. You didn’t really specify what you wanted.”

Derek continues to frown at him.

“What? Did I get it wrong?” Stiles asks.

“You didn’t think I would want extra fries too?”

The laughter he receives from both Stiles and the waitress sets him at ease and soon whatever worries that remained due to the miscommunication vanishes and Derek and Stiles falls into an easy conversation over burger, fries and chocolate shakes.

“So,” Derek says, popping a fry into his mouth. “You told me you were an author?”

Stiles nods. “Kinda.” He tilts his head from side to side.

“What do you mean ‘kinda’?”

Stiles bites his lip, taking a long sip from his shake, before he answers. “I sorta write stories on the side. I’m actually an FBI agent.”

Every bone in Derek’s body freezes at that. He can tell Stiles sensed it as he hurriedly goes on to explain.

“I, uh work for the FBI but to kind of help me with the horror I see, I ended up writing a book. Under a pseudo name so my co-works don’t really know it’s me.”

Derek swallows, calming his body down. The Boss said the lay low, nothing would happen until the order is given, which means Stiles can barely be considered a risk. After researching and doing a check on the name, Derek came up empty given that he only knew Stiles’ ‘first’ name.

“So,” Derek clears his throat, and forces his voice to remain casual. “Agent…”

“It’s _Special_ Agent Stilinski. Thank you.” Stiles says smugly.

Derek smirks. “You’re name is _Stiles Stilinski_?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “No! God, when will people stop using that tone?” He mumbles to himself. “Stiles is my nickname… But don’t bother asking my real name because I ain’t telling.”

Derek huffs and shakes his head. How ironic… _he doesn’t know Stiles real name and Stiles doesn’t know his_ …

“So this book…?” Derek fishes.

A wide, excited grin spreads across Stiles faces and Derek knows he asked the right question.

“Okay, so before you judge, my book is about werewolves.” Stiles gives him a firm look and Derek presses his lips together to hide his smile. “And it’s a love story…” He eyes Derek. “About a boy, who’s the werewolf, and the girl… who’s a hunter.”

Derek bites his bottom lip and nods. “Sounds… interesting.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Oh please, we may be on a date, but there is no need to bullshit me. You can say it… It sounds cliché.”

It’s then that Derek lets the grin break free as he nods. “Very.”

Stiles gives him a glare, and Derek would have taking him seriously, if it isn’t for the amused glint in his eye. “I said not to bullshit me, I never said anything about you being a dick.”

Derek laughs as he pops a fry in his mouth. “So, please, explain then how your story is _not_ a cliché.”

“It’s less about a romantic love, but the love between families.” Stiles explains, his voice more serious than before. “My lead character kinda lost everything, his family and then after he becomes an Alpha, he turns ta bunch of teenagers… and of course, one the guys he turns, has a best friend who is the hunter.”

Derek nods, picturing the story. “This being the girl the Alpha falls in love with?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, so anyway, the Alpha and this girl obviously gets close but… Stuff happens and, I don’t want to give it all away you know, but let’s just say shit happens.”

“And how is this not a romance?” Derek asks, trying to work on his tone.

Stiles reaches for his shake and takes drink. “Well, their love story is more a back ground one. I focus more on the life with the pack and how the Alpha is with the teenagers and how… after and during the shit they become a—“

“Family.” Derek finishes with a small smile.

“Yeah,” A blush forms on Stiles cheeks and he hides it by ducking his head and taking a large bite of his burger.

Sensing he wants to subject to be changed, Derek asks Stiles about his friends and why he wanted to become a FBI agent. As he listens to Stiles, Derek finds himself mesmerized once more by everything that is Stiles. The way he explains things, with so much passion and over-exaggeration.

The way he asked about Derek, as if he wants to know everything there is to know but at the same time, he sounds unsure as if isn’t sure if he should ask.

Hours pass, and after a whole meal and two shakes, Derek looks down at his cell to see that five hours has passed.

“Time to go?”

At Stiles voice, Derek looks up and nods sadly. “Yeah…”

After paying for their meal (They halved it because ‘A date's a date Derek, you pay for my food and I’ll pay for yours), they get on the bike and this time Derek drives as slow as he can. He tells Stiles to flip open the front so he can have fresh air. He got a lecture about how unsafe that is but Derek assured Stiles that he will be perfectly safe with him.

The bike rumbles under them as Derek slows down and parks in front of Stiles’ home. Stiles get off easier this time, gripping into Derek’s shoulders for support.

He reaches out and takes off the helmet, inhales an exaggerated amount of air.

“Ah, fresh air...” He looks down. “And solid ground.”

Derek rolls his eyes and scoff. “Fine, next time I won’t bring the bike.”

Stiles head snaps up. “Next time?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Smirking, Derek shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind it. I had a great time.”

“Wow, and you say I’m a cliché.”

“You want me to pull out my keys and fiddle with them to make it more believable?”

Stiles laughs, throwing his head back, exposing a long column of skin. Derek swallows thickly, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

Soon, the laughter dies down but Stiles remains standing there, looking at Derek with narrowed eyes.

“I must admit, you’re more fun that you look.”

Derek shrugs. “Glad I made an impression at least.”

Suddenly, Stiles’ smile drops and he swallows. Derek waits, watching as Stiles’ bites down on his bottom lip before taking a small step forward.

“Just so you know, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Derek opens his mouth to respond, just as a soft pair of lips encloses around his top lip, pulling it in with a small suck. Derek reaches out, grabbing onto the side of Stiles’ jacket, tugging his closer as he opens his mouth, returning the slow kiss. Derek groans slightly when he feels Stiles’ tongue swipe across his lower lip but before he can even react appropriately Stiles pulls away.

“To… Be continued?”

Derek opens his eyes, taking note of the flushed cheeks, the redder than usual lips, the small uneven breathes…

“Definitely.”

Stiles grins, leans down for a one last kiss before he turns around and makes his way to his front door. Half-way through, he freezes and spins around.

“Helmet!” He shouts, lifting it up. “Helmet! You forgot—“

Derek shakes his head, “Keep it.”

Putting his own helmet on, he waits until Stiles walks inside, in very clumsy manner, mind you, and closes his front door before he turns his bike and speeds off, the feeling of Stiles lips on his lingers all the way to his bedroom as he falls a sleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes, they are all mind and I have no beta.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. :)


	5. How You Bring Me Back To Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the late update I have no excuse but to say that I have been having trouble with this story.
> 
> Here is the next Chapter and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> NOTE: RATING HAS BEEN CHANGED
> 
> WARNING: REFERENCE TO TORTURE IN THIS CHAPTER

 

Darkness cloaks him as Derek sneaks into the office building. The lights are all off as D.M said it would be. Derek doesn’t know who D.M is and he is sure D.M doesn’t know who he is.

When Derek got his assignment last week, he had been eager to go out and do something, to go out and be who he truly is.

One month…

It has been one month of sitting around, working on maintaining his cover, waiting for his call…

It has also been a month of being undercover as Stiles’ boyfriend.

His boss had called him the day after their date, informing Derek that his false history has been created, commending him for gaining a cover so quickly and then told him to remain hidden until further notice.

He recalls his boss’ words clearly: _Install the flash, the bug shall be uploaded. Remain for two minutes and then return to base._

As Derek plugs in the flash into Drake Malkoy’s computer, he watches as the computer lights up and turns into a screen of various codes, filling up the once black screen in less than a second.

He waits patiently, trusting D.M to do the job under the required time.

The security guards below remain oblivious to the intruder on the top floor, all of them going about their day.

Their camera feed, Derek knows, has been hacked and is currently streaming false data, and none of them, not even the world’s best technical analyst will be able to re-detect the deception.

Derek looks up after two minutes exactly just as the various codes all trail up the computer screen, vanishing, leaving the screen black.

Derek takes the flash out and moves toward the window he had slipped in.

The benefits of Drake being paranoid is that he has everything electronically locked which is a wonderful yet stupid idea as everything electronic can be hacked by a single computer control by the right person.

The cable on which the assassin had used hangs limply just an inch above the window.

Like a ghost, Derek Hale climbs up the cable, the window closing beneath him, leaving the room empty as if no one had been there at all.

Mission Accomplished.

 

** ________________________**

 

Derek sighs as he reaches up and knocks on the door.

He can hear the familiar pounding of feet and then the door swings up, revealing a wide excited grin.

Derek feels something stir inside him and he feels the weight of last night’s mission slip away. Instantly his shoulders relax.

He feels his mind clearing up and Derek hates it.

“Hey! You’re early.” Stiles greets.

Derek’s lips tug up into a smile. He moves forward, cups Stiles’ cheeks and pulls him into a long deep kiss.

He feels the brunette let out a muffled sound of shock against his lips at the sudden act but soon he sighs through his nose and steps closer to Derek, tilting his head to deepen the kiss just a bit.

Warmth fills him.

His thumb strokes Stiles’ smooth cheek as he pulls away slowly, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. It is a small tradition they both had unknowingly started. No matter who kisses who, neither is able to pull away completely without leaning in for one more kiss.

“Hmm,” Stiles sounds with a smirk. “Someone missed me.”

“It has been a trying five days without you.”

He steps aside and lets Derek in, closing and locking the door. Derek slips off his leather jacket, tossing it on Stiles’ couch and smells the delicious aroma wafting from Stiles’ kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just working on this case and believe me, I am not that great to be around when cases like this hits.”

Derek frowns and turns to Stiles. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head and moves toward the kitchen. “No. Tonight I just want to be with you, and forget everything.”

Derek follows after him, noting the small dinner table has been set with two candles and two wine glasses already filled with red wine. He smiles when he sees the perfectly placed setting and immediately knows Lydia had done it.

Shaking his head fondly, he makes his way over to Stiles who is checking a pot on the oven. Sliding up behind him, Derek presses his entire front against Stiles’ back, slipping his arms around him in a comforting hug.

“So,” Derek starts, going for casual. “What are the plans?”

“Dinner then movie.”

“Wow, going all out I see.”

Stiles laughs, his back vibrating against Derek’s chest. “Oh you know me, I aim to woo.”

“I’m so smitten.” Derek says sarcastically, dipping in to press a kiss against Stiles’ neck.

“Hey, I will take this food and put it away, big guy. Scott loves my cooking.”

 _Scott_ , Derek thinks while rolling his eyes.

Scott is what Allison and Lydia likes to call, Stiles’ brother and platonic soul mate.

The two are so close they often get mistaken for a couple and, Kira has admitted with a laugh, loved fucking with people by pretending they _were_ a couple but were cheating on one another with Kira and Derek.

Derek had not been amused at that but then came the day he met Scott and boy did he understand instantly what they meant.

The goofy, loving Vet is everything Stiles said he would be and more, and when he met Derek, he had immediately informed the older man that he was watching him and that he better not be messing around with Stiles otherwise Derek ‘would not be walking away from the relationship alive’.

“Scott loves everything that he can shove in his mouth.”

Stiles scoffs. “He doesn’t swing that way, Der.”

Warmth blossoms in his chest at the pet name and Derek pinches his stomach, laughing lightly as Stiles jumps, spilling some of the sauce in the pot.

 _Der_ …

Stiles’ designated pet name for him after he found out Derek hated the other forms of endearments.

_“Hey baby.” Stiles had greeted him._

_Derek remembers how he tried to hide his reaction but the instant frown on Stiles’ face had let him know he had caught the small flinch._

_“Sorry, uh, I don’t really like that pet name.” Derek explained._

_Stiles had nodded and said. “Okay. Then I will never call you that again.”_

_And then he smiled._

They eat their dinner slowly, talking about random things.

Stiles tells him about Allison and Isaac’s problems with the adoption agency, how they have been trying to look into cases where the children have been mistreated in anyway, abuse, neglect, anything.

Stiles hasn’t told Derek why but with the protective and proud glint in Stiles’ eye, Derek can easily assume one of the two soon-to-be-parents was abused a child.

“I’ll do the dishes, you pick the movie.” Derek says as he stands up, picking up his and Stiles’ plate.

He does quick work of the dishes, listening as Stiles walks around the living room, ‘hm-ing’ as he no doubt scans his big collection of movies that he keeps in a full glass display case for everyone and anyone to see.

 _“My mom and I loved movies. She always said that it’s better to buy a movie that comes with a great memory because you are guaranteed to experience that feeling every time you watch that movie.”_ Stiles had explained when Derek asked.

“So what are we watching?” Derek asks as he walks in.

Stiles is already on the couch and Derek takes the seat beside him. The moment he sits down, Stiles reaches out for the remote and presses play, eager as always to watch a movie whose words he has practically memorized.

The green eyed man shakes his head in amusement as he watches Stiles slither further down the cushioned seat, placing his sock covered feet on the coffee table and then leans back against the couch.

“You sure you’re comfortable enough?” Derek asks sarcastically.

Instead of answering, Stiles shushes him, his eyes firmly fixed on the television screen.

Derek bites down on his lip to keep his laugh in as he too gets more comfortable, sinking back into the soft cushions. The warmth of Stiles’ body calms him and Derek lifts his arm, tossing it around the back of the couch before shifting closer to Stiles.

When he sees what movie it is, he rolls his eyes. “Captain America, really?”

Stiles mocks a glare at him. “What’s wrong with Steve Rogers?”

“Nothing. I just thought, one bulked up guy in this room was enough for you.”

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims, elbowing Derek in the side. “Are you calling me skinny? Because let me tell you, I got muscles, okay? I mean, they might not be as big as yours but they are there.”

Leaning over, Derek presses a soft kiss against his forehead. “If you say so.”

“Fuck you.”

“Only if you’re lucky.”

Stiles’ body tense up next to him and Derek winces.

A month… A _month_ has gone by and he and Stiles are yet to get physical. They have been getting closer emotionally, something Derek chooses not to think about but physically…

Whenever they get too lost in the moment and Derek would feel Stiles’ hand creep up under his shirt, he’d feel that panicking fear overcome him and before he can even think about it, he’s shoving Stiles’ hand away.

For the most part, Stiles has been understanding but Derek can see the question in his eyes. He notices the way he will look at Derek as if he is searching for something, something that Derek hopes he doesn’t find.

After all, Stiles is the perfect… cover.

“So, how familiar are you with the MC universe?”

Derek takes in a deep breath. “Uh… You mean, like Captain America and Green Lantern?”

He watches Chris Evan and Sebastian Stan talking, the scrawny kid and the guy who protects him.

A breath washes over his neck and Derek turns to see Stiles who is openly gaping at him. His bow-shaped pink lips are parted, giving Derek a small peak of his tongue. His eyes, honey and expressive, are widened incredulously.

“What?” Derek asks, frowning.

Stiles turned his body, his eyes firmly fixed on Derek. “What did you just say?”

Derek opens his mouth but Stiles speaks over him.

“Did you just include Captain America and Green Lantern in the same sentence?”

Frowning, he nods. “Yes. So?”

“ _So_?!” His loud voice rings in Derek’s ears. “So? Derek, how the heck- How on _God’s green Earth_ can you put Captain America and Green Lantern in the same—You do know they from different Universes right?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Of course.” He points to the television. “This during the World War and the other is in a more modern time, right?”

In a flash Stiles jumps up, his face flushed. “This is--- Oh my god. You know nothing, do you? Have you heard of DC?”

“Uh… That’s with… Dead pool, right?”

A shocked gasp fills the air. The movie, long forgotten it seems, continues to play in the background. Stiles, with his hands dramatically pressed against his cheeks, shakes his head mournfully.

“DC… Dead pool. Oh my god, this is like Scott and Star Wars all over again?”

“What? Scott confuses Star Wars and Star Trek too?”

Stiles nods his head sadly. “It almost ended our friendship… But this, Derek, if we are planning on making this work, we gotta fix this error. This _devastating_ error.”

“You mean you standing in front of the television, while we miss Steve Roger’s epic transformation to Captain America, just so you can educate me on the difference between Marvel and DC?”

“Yes!”

“Why? They’re all superhero movies? So what if I mixed them up? Just because Captain America is Marvel and Green Lantern is DC doesn’t mean anything.”

Stiles’ tensed up posture relaxes, his shoulders sag until they slump completely.

Smirking up at him, Derek continues. “Besides, if was going to make you choose between Batman and Iron Man... who would you chose?”

“Batman.” Stiles answer in the most serious tone Derek has ever heard him use.

The pure seriousness in his eyes, the pink shade of his cheeks, the deep furrowing of his eyebrows sends an indescribable feeling of sheer joy through his body, bringing with it something he hasn’t felt since…

With a smile slowly growing on his lips, Derek stretches out his hand.

Stiles looks down, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Slowly, he takes Derek’s hand, going along with him has he tugs, pulling him until Stiles gets the message and sinks down on his lap, his knees bracketing Derek’s thighs.

Tilting his head up, Derek smiles.

“This,” Stiles says. “Does not make up for your lack of knowledge about Superhero movies and their origins.”

“How about this?” He asks, leaning up to capture Stiles’ bottom lip in a tantalizing kiss.

He pulls back slowly, raising his eyebrows in question.

“No. Dead pool in _DC_.” Stiles whispers back, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“No? Not even when I do this?”

He leans forward and latches onto a small patch of skin on Stiles’ neck, the one sensitive spot that causes Stiles’ brain to short circuit for a small moment. As Derek sucks and nips, he feels Stiles’ fingers tangle through the back strands of his hair, his blunt fingernails scrapping against his scalp.

“No. I’m,” Stiles gasps. “I’m an FBI agent. I’m not so easily manipulated.”

Derek freezes at that.

He pulls back, his eyes locking on the bruised skin as Stiles’ words plays over in his head.

_Manipulated…_

_Manipulated…_

_Not… Easily… Manipulated…_

He feels the small amount of heat from Stiles’ body disappear as the younger man leans back. Derek watches as the bruised skin moves further and further away but he refuses to remove his eyes from it, fearful of looking into those eyes that seem to see everything Derek tries to hide.

There is a pressure under his chin and hesitantly Derek allows his head to be lifted.

Concerned honey eyes meets his.

“You okay? You froze up there for a second?”

Derek stares up at him, his throat suddenly dry. Those honey eyes that are always so open and trustful stare back at him, waiting.

Since the first day they met, it has been those eyes that Derek has been memorized by since the moment he saw them. Those eyes that look directly into his, that stare at him every day with such familiarity that it pains him.

But for those small moment it’s as if Stiles knows who Derek is and he trusts that man.

The man that Derek is _not_.

It is the man he has personified from a folder handed to him by The Boss.

“Hey.” A thumb presses against his chin, giving it a small squeeze. “Seriously, are you okay?”

Swallowing, Derek closes his eyes to regain his bearing. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

Instead of answering, Derek reaches up, cupping Stiles’ jaw to draw him closer, pressing their lips together. The sweet pressure sends chills down Derek’s spine and like an addict for a hit, Derek shifts toward, seeking out every available inch he could reach.

He wants to forget.

He wants to dismiss everything besides this moment, here in Stiles’ home, protected from the outside world.

A flick of the tongue causes Derek to groan, dropping one hand to grab onto Stiles waist, pulling him closer, pressing their chests so tight together, Derek swears he can _feel_ Stiles’ heartbeat.

He can feel himself growing harder in his jeans and can’t help but thrust up, wanting Stiles to know just exactly what he does to him.

The pleasurable moan he gets as an answer turns something in them both.

Their kiss grows faster, wetter as they nip and suck at each other’s lips. Derek bites down gently on the soft sweet pillow of lips, pulling back to do the same to Stiles’ top one, tasting him, treasuring him. Stiles tugs on his hair, pulling them closer as he tilts his head to the side, sliding his tongue into Derek’s mouth.

“Hmmm,” Derek sounds, feeling the first brush of warmth against his tongue before it tangles with his.

A hand falls on his waist, fingers digging into his flesh, squeezing it through his shirt. Stiles thrusts down, grinding his own growing bulge against Derek. The raven haired man groans and Stiles repeats the motion, slower yet harder this time.

He feels the hand on his waist slide down, flirting with the waist line of his jean before Stiles slowly dips his fingers under the material.

Cool fingers meets hot flesh.

Derek’s hand snaps over and he grabs onto Stiles’ wrists.

Their lips leaves each other with a wet pop.

Harsh breathing fills the silence as Derek stares blankly down at the pale skin in his hand. His fingers branded around Stiles’ wrist, holding it firmly.

“Der… You okay? What’s wrong?”

_Scream, Derek._

_Scream all you want._

Her voice rings through his mind, chilling him to the bone.

Missions flashes before his eyes.

His muscles twitched, his body tightening as he feels the phantom pain of bullets tearing through his skin, as he feels the sharp edges of the blades slice through his flesh as if he is nothing more than a canvas for them to create their own form of art.

“Nothing.” Derek says, slowly letting go of his wrist.

He feels the pressure of Stiles’ body lift off him as he shifts over and takes a seat beside Derek, his eyes never moving off him.

The familiar pain of self-loathing washes over him.

Instinctively, Derek squeezes his eyes shut, forcing that feeling away, shoving it deep down inside him. He digs deep inside himself, forcing the assassin from within to take over.

A cold, numbing feeling slowly starts to claim his mind and body, he feels his shoulders tighten and the heat of his face cooling off, slowly transforming into a neutral expression.

A hand grabs his, large and firm.

Fingers slip through his, intertwining them together.

The numbness stops.

He can’t help but open his eyes, wanting to see their hands together. Pale fingers against his tanned skin. It should look weird, the heavy contrast but to him… it looks beautiful.

The pure. And the tainted.

Slowly, Derek feels his thumb move, stroking back and forth rhythmically.

“Derek.” He says his name softly, urging him. “Hey, look at me.”

Pale green eyes locks with warm honey orbs.

Stiles’ jaw flexes, his pink lips pressed together in a way that Derek knows he is going to broach a subject that will end in only two ways.

“What is going on with you?” He asks seriously, his eyes staring deeply into Derek’s. “This isn’t the first time you have done that. And while I kept my mouth shut and let it go… I— Derek, I need to know what is happening so that I can know what I shouldn’t be doing.”

As the words leaves Stiles’ mouth, something stirs from within Derek, coiling and tightening almost painfully.

Taking in deep breathe, Derek opens his mouth, ready to tell Stiles that it’s nothing and that he’s just not in the mood. Every excuse he has ever used to get out of situations comes to mind, every single training that he has gone through replays in his head, a monologue of instructions, drilled into him for years, forced into his memories, branded in him for all eternity.

And through all the white noise, one thing plays over and over.

_I need to know what is happening so that I can know what I shouldn’t be doing…_

_What **I** shouldn’t be doing… _

No one has ever told him that his behavior is as a result of something they are doing.

No one has ever told him they will understand….

No one has ever wanted to know why he was the way he was.

Because… No one was Stiles.

_Live the lie… Until the lie becomes your life._

Stiles is his lie.

Stiles is his cover.

“Derek.” His strong voice breaks through, like a ray of light piercing through the one hole in the dark overcast thoughts that had taken hold of his mind.

“I—It’s…” The words spill from Derek’s lips. “It’s got nothing to do with you.” He says firmly to Stiles.

The younger man raises his eyebrows skeptical.

“It’s…” He looks at Stiles, his eyes bouncing to and fro, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to come up with something that will sound plausible. “There’s something you don’t know about me.”

Stiles tilts his head to the side, “What? You’re bad in bed?” He jokes, a reassuring grin forming on his face.

He’s trying to be kind.

He is trying to ease Derek’s nervousness but as his anxiety grows with the idea that he might tell Stiles, the grin on Stiles’ face falls and his head straightens up.

“Are you?” He asks seriously then.

“No.” Derek sighs out, shaking his head.

“Okay… then what is it?”

Derek speaks then, breaking eye contact to glance down at his body. “It’s my… I have— I have _scars_.” He forces the word out.

Silences falls over them and Derek’s heart pounds against his chest. A frantic beating fueled by the shock and fear that has filled over his body.

Shock that he has allowed Stiles to see just how... broken he is.

Shock that he has just broken his cover as the charismatic man who appealed to the writer and agent within Stiles.

And fear of the consequences of those two acts.

Suddenly Stiles stands up, his grip tightening on Derek’s hand.

“Come on.” He says seriously, his dark brows pulled together, his honey eyes guarded.

Reluctantly, Derek raises from the couch, looking at Stiles for any sign that he should leave. If he has ruined his cover, he knew he could have to change his entire plan and with the help of DM, he would have to find a new identity soon.

Turning around, Stiles leads Derek away from the living room and up the stairs.

His chest tightens and he swallows thickly, but the firm hold Stiles has on his hand anchors him and with the amount of his trust Stiles has earned against all odds, Derek finds himself following Stiles.

They reach his bedroom, a room Stiles has only every shown Derek when he was given a tour but a room neither of them have stepped in.

The walls are painted a light blue color, giving it a calm and peaceful feel to it.

Pictures cover Stiles’ dresser, revealing the life the FBI Agent has built for himself and with the people he has built it with.

A life, Derek has infiltrated…

The sound of the door creaking close refocuses Derek’s attention in the younger man as he slowly closes the door, leaving it ajar.

Then, with a deep breath he turns to Derek, looking him dead in the eye.

Gone is the humorous glint that Derek has grown accustomed to.

Gone is the light expression and the relaxed posture that made Stiles ‘ _Stiles_ ’.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, his voice deep and graveled.

Stiles swallows. “I’m gonna show you something, okay. Just… Don’t freak out.”

Pale hands rise up and long fingers starts unbuttoning his plaid shirt, opening it up one button at a time, revealing a white shirt underneath it.

Derek’s feels his shoulders tense up and his hands curling into a fist as he forces himself to stay put, to not react. He keeps his eyes on Stiles, who is looking down, focusing on the task at hand.

Then, he roughly shrugs it off, revealing lean muscles that flexes with each movement.

Derek swallows at the sight and forces his eyes to return to Stiles, who looks up and meets his stares. With a small nod to Derek, he tugs the tank top up and over his head.

Wide green eyes drop as he tracks every inch of skin that comes into view, porcelain and mole dotted skin.

And then, Derek sees them.

His breathes hitches in his throat.

Circular indentations.

Jagged and puckered lines of mended skin.

Stiles takes a step closer to him but Derek can’t stop looking at those marks that marred his skin.

“As FBI, I have been shot a lot and mostly my vest stops them, obviously but sometimes… I’m not always that lucky.” Stiles says as he inches closer.

“This for example,” He says pointing to a scar that was clearly the cause of a bullet by his hip, “This asshole was because my vest didn’t protect me properly. This,” He points to a 3 cm scar on his shoulder. “This is from a knife fight. And this…”

It’s then that Stiles looks away, down at the long, pale, reddened skin that ran from the corner of his shoulder, down and across his left pec. It looks harsh and Derek knew instantly that the scar had been a deep one, inflicted on the body by pure anger.

With an emotional and deep voice, Stiles says. “This is from three months ago when I was captured and…” His voice turns dark. “Well, let’s just say the guy had a message he wanted me to understand.”

He takes a small step toward Derek, his hands coming up, cupping Derek’s jaw. “So trust me, I’m the last person that’s gonna judge you, okay.”

Honest eyes stare at him and Derek, drawing strength from within, takes a step back, feeling Stiles’ hands slip from his face.

Keeping his eyes on Stiles, he hesitantly starting unbuttoning his own shirt, his fingers feeling like dead digits.

They move robotically, swift and fast.

Stiles holds their stare, his eyes never wavering once.

When Derek reaches the last button, he clenches his jaw and shrugs his shirt off, knowing the painful memories that was his past and present life are documented and engraved into his skin.

A constantly reminder that he hates yet uses as a guide. As an anchor to dismiss any false and delusional thoughts.

An anchor that has never failed him… until a month ago.

Amber eyes remains locked with his and when Derek gives a firm nod, only then do they flicker down and everything Derek had dreaded occurs instantly.

Shock washes over Stiles’ features.

His mouth falls open and his eyes widen in utter disbelief and… _horror_.

Derek’s eyes slams shut for a brief moment, his hand gripping his shirt as he tries to force the hurt and shame that fills him at the expression on Stiles’ face.

He knows the view that Stiles has.

He knows how ugly and how disgusting it looks.

 _They_ all made sure of that.

All his targets.

All his enemies.

All those people that have gotten their hands on him and tortured him, some for sheer pleasure and some for the pure hate they have for his government and the people he works with.

Kate's words plays in his head: _You are just a worthless machine used by the government, Derek. You have no value at all. You hate yourself, for every life that you have taken for ‘the greater good’. Please. Your scars run so much deeper so why not add more to the already growing collection, huh?_

He knows every mark they left on his skin.

Scars that run from the left side of his chest, down to his right hip that look distinctly like claw marks. Marks he said were from a hunting accident caused by a very ‘angry bear’…

Only they were made by a sadistic man with metal claws, who loved digging them into the skin of his victims, dragging them down slowly and tortuously as blood spilled from their wounds while they screamed their throat raw.

Bullet wounds dots his chest.

Circular burns caused by a cigarette runs vertically down his left forearm.

A gift from the Italian Mafia when they found out who he truly was.

And although Stiles can’t see his back, Derek has seen those wounds in his mind, those scars. He has memorized those whip lashes across his back, knows the exact amount and which one was his first and which one was his last, and the ill-healed burn mark of a cross over his lower back…

As the silence grows near impossible to handle, Derek forces his eyes to open.

Cold and lifeless, he stares down at the shirt in his hand, uncurling his fist, getting ready to put it back on, to hide from the horrified eyes.

There is a flash of movement and a hand grabs onto his wrist, the pressure of the grip firm and strong.

The hand does not move and when Derek lifts his eyes, he is met by a small, comforting smile.

Slowly, Stiles takes a step forward, leaving enough space between them.

Derek sees his hand moving up, palms up, drawing closer toward his body.

Instinctively he steps back and away from the hand, not wanting Stiles to touch him… To touch _them_.

Stiles’ hand freezes before he drops it. His honey eyes sparkle in the dark with unshed tears and Derek waits, anxiously for Stiles to speak.

He needs to hear his voice. He needs to hear something from Stiles that can give him some direction.

He needs to know if he should leave.

He needs to know what is going on in Stiles’ head.

He needs to know something!

As the blood rushes through his ears, as his heart slams against his chest, for the first time Derek feels lost.

He has been trained for order and protocols.

He has been trained to know what to do and how to go about doing it but this… opening himself up willing with nothing but Stiles’ next words to dictate how the situation will end…

“What— what happened to you?”

The question breaks the tension that has built up within the room that brought with it a heavy weight upon Derek’s heart.

“I can’t tell you.” He says grudgingly.

“You…” Stiles trails off, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

They flicker down to his body once more and Derek can feel the burning imprint they leave on his skin before they lock with his eyes once more.

He feels his mouth tugging up into a lifeless smile and then he shrugs because he doesn’t know what else to do.

He know how this will end.

He knows that without an explanation, Stiles will ask him to leave.

Stiles lives by meaning. He bases his life on finding the reasons behind crimes and his second life on the reasons behind why people do what they do through the characters in his books.

And Derek being unable to tell him something that has such a great impact on their… thing, well he knows that will be something Stiles can’t stand for.

“I’ll go.” He said, his voice neutral, betraying nothing.

He lifts his hand up and then grip on his wrist tightens painfully, causing Derek’s eyes to snap over to Stiles.

Wide and open eyes stares back at him.

“It’s just a body…” Stiles says to him, his voice clear. “And with scars of my own, I know that no matter how much you wish they would just go away… they won’t."

He takes a confident step closer. “But me,” He swallows. “I fell in love with the man, not the body. And if loving you means accepting everything that you carry and everything that you feel and deal with,” A warm hand cups his face. “Well, I’m all for it.”

_Love…_

The words and Stiles’ strong, firm and confident presence causes every muscle in his body to relax. He feels the weight on his shoulders lessen and the dark and numb feeling that he had allowed to take over slowly ease away.

His eyes starts burning and in a desperate attempt to keep his tears in Derek grits his teeth until his jaw aches.

A warm chest presses against his and the hand on his wrist moves down and takes the shirt from his hold.

He hears the fabric hit the floor.

Stiles’ other hand reaches up and he tangles his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“It’s just a body… It’s not the person.” Stiles says.

Derek, with a wave of emotions coursing through him surges forward and captures Stiles’ lips, pouring every feeling he can into this kiss. He grabs Stiles’ waist, digging his fingers into the bare skin under his palms, tugging him closer, pressing every inch of their bodies together until there is no space or air between them.

He takes a small step back, his heart beat rising, his blooding rushing through his head as passion and euphoria tastes hold, takes control. He feels his mask and his persona slip away with each sound that Stiles makes.

The back of his knees hits the mattress and Derek sits down, pulling Stiles down with him, holding onto him as he loses himself in the man that unbeknownst to Derek has just changed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Line: Live the lie until the lie becomes your life (Taken from Nikita Series)


	6. The Echo of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past clashes with the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right! So to all those who have stuck with this story, thank you so much and I am so sorry for the long wait. I wanted to finish it up, that way, I don't leave you guys hanging for months on end. 
> 
> The story is done. I just have to do some finishing touches and final tweaks. 
> 
> * 
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: The rating has changed. This chapter contains sexual content.

Derek wakes up to soft, heated presses against his chest, lips trailing up, over the valley between his abs. He sighs at the sweet pressure, groaning when teeth nib at his right nipple. He reaches up, blindly, until his fingers brush against soft hair.

A body grazes his, he feels the tip of something wet and hard trail against his inner thigh and he lifts his leg up, hooking it around Stiles’ own leg, pulling him in and close.

He barely opens his eyes, a flash of whiskey taking his entire view before he closes it again and leans forward, latching on soft, warm lips. He kisses Stiles sweetly, ignorant of any morning breath which isn’t bad given the time they actually fell asleep. A begging stroke has him opening his mouth, welcoming Stiles’ tongue with a loud moan.

Hands run over his body, long fingers trailing down his sides, flirting with V line before it drips low. He feels himself harden at the sensation of Stiles’ cock grinding and rubbing against his. Derek nips at Stiles’ lips, thrusting his hips up, wanting him to feel his arousal.

A hand cups his jaw and Stiles turns his head to deepen their kiss, pressing their chest together, lifting his own hips and then a hand wraps around Derek and he lets go of Stiles’ tongue with a wet, loud pop as a throaty groan tears from him.

A wet mouth attacks his neck, nibbling, biting and sucking, marking Derek as his. Derek tangles his fingers through messy strands, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ lower back. His hand strokes the narrow waist, his fingers sneaking to those tight, round globes. Just as one ass cheek fills his palms, Derek squeezes as Stiles’ twists his wrist in that particular way.

“ _God_. Again.” Derek groans, his voice thick and rough.

Stiles’ teeth sink into his neck, the painful, pleasuring sting, sending a shot of electricity to course through him as a wet tongue runs over the bite, soothing it.

He feels Stiles’ cock rub against his, the friction hardening him, tightening him as he remember the feeling of its firm, hard thrusts inside him last night. Derek shifts his fingers, to where he can touch the younger man intimately, dipping into Stiles’ weakly, his forefinger slipping into that puckered hole, going only until the nail.

“Shit!” Stiles hisses against his neck and his hand speeds up.

Derek grips onto Stiles’ hair, pulling him away from his neck with a single tug and warm, wet lips meets his in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss, the overwhelming bursts of pleasure that course through him blinds him and shutting off his mind from everything but Stiles.

The feeling of Stiles’ hand stroking him, the rubbing of his cock against his has Derek lifting his leg higher to draw Stiles’ closer, wanting to feel every inch of him, seeking the heat of his body, the tender brushing of their chest as Stiles’ moves above him. He circles Stiles’ rim slowly, knowing better than to insert his finger fully, knowing Stiles is still from last night too.

“Fuck, Stiles.” He groans, feeling the familiar tightening of his balls.

Stiles nods against his mouth, their teeth clanking together as they try to lock lips. Stiles’ hand speeds up, his grip tightening around them both, his hand lubricated by the leaking of pre-cum from them both. A thumb swipes against his slit of his throbbing cock and Derek tosses his head back, letting out a deep groan.

A forehead drops on his and Derek’s eyes flash open, locking with pupil blown whiskey orbs. The sight alone sends him over the edge, white ribbons shoots between them, messing on their chest.

Stiles’ jaw slackens, his hand jerking back and forth with rapid speed, chasing his own release. Derek’s bites down on his raw lips, dipping a finger in Stiles’, igniting a loud moan from Stiles as he unloads on both Derek and himself.

They shutter and shake against each other, sharing one breath as they pant against each other’s mouths.

Stiles’ strokes slows down deliciously as he rides them both out until they both soften in his hold.

He leans down, pressing a soft open mouth kiss against Derek’s lips before he rolls off, falling onto his back with a heavy thud.

“I miss these mornings.” He moans out beside Derek.

The raven haired man’s head falls to the side, his eyes dancing over the beautiful man lying next to him, those kind, whiskey eyes, those kissable cupid-bow shaped lips… he catches sight of the silver dragon charm dangling from a leather cord around Stiles’ neck. He feels his heart grow, his chest filling with warmth as it does every morning he wakes up with Stiles beside him.

He can’t believe that it was merely two weeks ago when he first fell into bed with Stiles. He can’t believe he went years without waking up with Stiles… if he had known what he had been missing… Derek doesn’t know how he would have survived.

Some nights, he feels cold, his body craving the pressure of Stiles’ against him, his heart longing for the presence of another.

Unable to stop himself, Derek leans forward, tilting his head to the side to kiss Stiles’ wholeheartedly. He feels the other man sigh against him, their tongues brushing against the others’, a whisper of a touch.

Derek pulls away, his lips moving before his mind could comprehend the words. “I love you…”

Stiles’ eye widen, his body tensing up. His breathing stutters in an exhalation but Derek doesn’t care. He has finally said it. He had finally spoken the words that has been ringing through his mind, over and over, every day and every night he spends and doesn’t spend with Stiles.

He remember the last time he thought he’d thought felt love but this… this is nothing like that. And that’s why he trusts in it.

“Uh,” Stiles opens his mouth. “Fuck, I should not be finding this so romantic.”

Large hands reaches up and Stiles turns around, his body rolling, forcing Derek’s back. A long leg swings over him and his sight is suddenly filled with Stiles’ beautiful, overly attractive body. His lean muscles clench as Stiles moves and those beauty spots draws Derek’s attention away from Stiles’ eyes momentarily.

Stiles grins widely down at him. “I mean, here we are, in your bed, covered in jizz and you’re telling me you love me and I’m telling you I love you too… This is just so romantic!”

I love you too…

The words sink into him, like a blessing on a faithless man.

“You love me?” Derek asks dumbly.

Stiles stops and frowns at him. “Well, yeah? Didn’t I say it back? I could have sworn I said—“

Derek lurches up, pulling Stiles in a searing kiss. He wraps his arms tightly around the other man, his hands stroking the soft skin, pressing against his back and shoulder blades, wanting him closer. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, reached over and up to cup Stiles’ chin, holding onto it, wanting nothing to separate himself and Stiles, not now, not ever.

They kiss until his lungs are screaming for air, until breathing through his nose does nothing but make him dizzy. Derek begrudgingly pulls away, stealing pecks every chance he gets. Stiles’ laugh against his mouth, his own hand stroking Derek’s jaw.

It’s Stiles that has the will power to pull away completely, a blinding smile that matches Derek’s spread across his face. “C’mon. Shower, now.”

Stiles rolls out clumsily, stumbling as he does so. He grasps Derek’s hand, his eyes bright and his expression giddy and pulls him along. The older man returns the smile, feeling light and indescribably happy. He finds himself laughing along with Stiles as they both stumble to Derek’s bathroom, with Stiles’ arms wrapped tightly around Derek from behind.

 

                                    **_________________________**

 

“Right, so Scott says he’ll meet you at the pub.” Stiles says to him over their breakfast. Breakfast they are currently having in Derek’s bed because they both want to eat and cuddle at the same time.

They are still both smiling, their ‘I love you’s’ brightening the day and their moods even further. Not even the prospect meeting Stiles’ brother could dampen his spirits.

“I still don’t understand why I have to go alone.” Derek says, taking a bite of the omelette he had made for Stiles and himself.

An elbow digs into his side. “He is family and I want you and him to get to know each other.”

“Yeah, Stiles, I know. I meant why do I have go alone? I’ve met him and he’s a great guy but what am I gonna talk to him about? We have nothing in common and I know this because we both agreed after Lydia saved us from an awkward silence that we have nothing in common.”

“You have me in common.” Stiles says, his eyes widened with over-expressive enthusiasm.

Derek bites down on his bottom lip, humming in faux-contemplation. “You’re right.” He nods to Stiles. “We do have you in common. Oh! How about this, I’ll ask Scott what he likes about you and then when he no doubt asks ‘and you’, like he continuously did the last time, I’ll go into depth about you personality right down to the way you bite my—“

“Okay!” Stiles cuts him off, shoving at him and causing Derek’s plate to nearly tip over. “Do not talk about our sex life with Scott. Just stick with my awesome personality and go from there. Do not talk about my penis but our promising relationship. Talk about Allison and Isaac, Scott loves to gossip, a trait he hadn’t been able to kick since high school.”

Stiles sighs mournfully at that. “I know so much about his sex life… you know maybe you should talk about my penis.”

Laughter breaks out between them and Derek leans over to press a chaste kiss against Stiles’ lips. “I will try to make it work… for you.”

“Aw,” Stiles coos’ reaching out to pinch his chin. “You’re super sweet. I love you.”

A smile spreads across Derek’s face, both at those three words he knows he will never get tired of hearing and because of Stiles’ dopy grin. “And I love you too.”

 

                                      **________________________**

 

 “Okay, so, uh--- what did you play in high school?” Scott asks, for the third time.

The small pub Derek and Scott both agreed to meet up in is bustling with chatter, the aroma of hamburgers and fries wafting through the air. Derek sighs under his breath and reaches out for his beer, taking another sip.

“Basketball…” Derek answers again, glancing over to Scott who nods interestingly. “Uh...” He looks around, searching for something to say. “So you and Allison?”

Stiles did say he likes to gossip.

Scott brightens up at the new topic. “Oh yeah! We dated for like three years in high school. Man, I remember those days. Did you know Stiles had a thing for Lydia?”

Derek perks up at that. “No, I didn’t.”

“Really? He usually spills those particular beans the moment Lydia and who ever he’s dating meets. Yeah, I mean Stiles always knew he was into guys as well but Lydia had his ‘heart’, for all of high school. Until senior year of course.”

“What happened then?” Derek asks curiously.

He has been with Stiles for nearly two months now, and even though he has picked up that Stiles’ loves to shower Lydia with cliché and cheesy compliments, words like ‘my light’ and ‘my goddess’ being the frequent ones that left his mouth, he had no idea it went further than that.

“Well, see when me and Allison dated, Lydia being her best friend kinda joined our group. And soon the unreachable, unattainable strawberry blonde was our friend, someone Stiles actually talked to and got to know and one drunken kiss made it perfectly clear that the girl Stiles thought she was, was not Lydia at all.”

Scott smiles, clearly recalling a fond memory. “You know, he was the one who actually got me and Allison to talk things through after our break up. If it wasn’t for him and Lydia, I would never have met Isaac and Lydia would never have met Jordan.”

Derek frowns. “Yeah… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Scott.”

Puppy brown eyes widen. “Oh, shit! Sorry. My bad! Freakin’ long story short, Jordan and Isaac go way back, Isaac met Allison in college and then one day they set Lyd’s and Jordan up on a blind date… and well, you know.”

Derek tilts his head to the side in mild wonderment, having no idea Stiles’ friends and family are so deeply intertwined. Sure he knows Stiles and Scott’s parents are newly married, and are expecting a baby girl but to know that one change in their lives would have altered so much things.

Allison and Scott dating, led to Stiles and Lydia being friends, which resulted in Stiles evidently getting over Lydia, which made it easier for Allison and Scott to remain friends, which made it possible for Isaac to befriend Scott and meet Allison, and that led to Lydia meeting Jordan… And most importantly, it made it possible for Derek to be in Stiles’ life.

“Listen, Derek.” Scott’ cautious voice reaches his ears, pulling him out of his train of thought. He looks over at the other man to see him staring sternly into Derek’s eyes. “I get that me and you ‘getting to know’ each other was per Stiles’ request but, I actually wanted to meet you because I wanted to see if you were good enough for Stiles.”

The light humorous air between them drops in that instant. Derek’s body tenses up, his shoulder dropping back and he straightened up, his eyes locked with Scott.

“He’s my brother and regardless how much he cares about you… Stiles has— the thing with Stiles is he puts in his all. One relationship and he devotes himself completely to that one person, he gives his everything and I have watched too many times as people used that, as people took what he gave and stomped over it.”

Derek fingers curl into a tight fist at Scott’s words.

He calls a conversation, one of the first serious few he and Stiles’ had: _Yeah, I mean, I guess, I come off to strong sometimes._

The ‘who’ is on the tip of his tongue.

Scott continues, “So… I asked to meet you and see who you are, without the cover of Stiles around to save you.”

Derek nods, raising his eyebrows. “And?”

A heavy silence falls between the two as Scott’s eyes flicker back and forth, searching for his own answers to questions Derek does not know.

After a few tense moments, Scott finally speaks. “And…” His eyes soften and a kind smiles spreads over his face. “I am so happy Stiles has found you.”

Those words of confirmation fills Derek with great joy but that feeling gets overshadowed by gut wrenching guilt. He flashes to the smiles he and Stiles have shared, the laughs and the jokes… He recalls the honesty in Stiles’ eyes and the truth in his character and then he remember who he is, he remember the man he is.

To hear Scott say he is happy to have him in Stiles’ life, warms Derek to the core, to know that his love for Stiles is something he, and now Scott, knows to be truth makes him so happy.

He loves Stiles… but does Stiles love _him_?

“Do right by him, Derek.” Scott says to him, his voice urgent and earnest.

Derek swallows down the pain, refusing to let his past darken his present. He’ll make a plan, he’ll figure something out.

“I will.” Derek promises, to both Scott and himself.

 

                                           **____________________**

  
Derek enters his loft, a smile playing on his lips as he basks in the feeling of utter joy that fills him.

He finally has everything he never thought he’d have. Though he is so different, though he feel like an entirely new person, he knows this new person is someone whom he wants to be.

He is just about to reach into pocket, eager to call Stiles when he feels something that shut everything down.

A small vibration starts up in the inner pocket of his leather jacket, his burner phone ringing, its default tone echoes through his loft, chilly the joyous air, tensing his relaxed body and killing the man whom has inhabited his mind and body in that moment.

Robotically, Derek reaches inside his jacket and pulls out the small device, his expression void of emotions; physically and mentally preparing himself for whatever The Boss has out for him.

_You can’t run away from your demons, Derek._

Taking in a calm breath, he answers the call, holding the cell to his ear and waits for her voice.

Harsh and hoarse breathing comes from the other end and Derek frowns.

“Hello?” He asks, his voice deeper and lower than usual.

“Derek James Hale?” A thick voice answers on the other end. “That is who you are, correct? Or do you prefer John Matthews? Aiden Rogers? No?”


	7. My Only Hope

He’s cold.

He feels numb to the core, a hollow feeling left behind as all those things he had previous felt vanishes in a second.

“How about Mikael Taylor? That was your most recent cover, correct?”

With each of his alias’s being listed off, his body hardened and becomes rigid, his muscles bulging and straining against his shirt, his killer instincts surfacing, break through the wall he been building, icing his soul and darkening his mind.

“Who are you?” Derek asks slowly, deadly.

“The man who has something… something you care about.”

Everything inside of him shuts down.

There is shuffling on the other end and a new voice, croaky and deep, speaks. “Derek?”

No… NO please.

“Stiles?” He questions in vain.

“Derek, who the fuck are these—“ his fearful voice cuts off with a loud pained groan. Derek’s eyes falls shut, his head bows as images of a bloodied Stiles flashes through his mind; broken and beaten, confused and angry.

The hoarse breathing returns. “So I guess you do know him.”

“Who are you?” Derek growls.

“Falling on the job? Really, Mr Hale. Have you not learned that bad things always happen to the people men like you fall for?” He questions, his tone mocking, sick amusement dripping in his voice.

“Don’t screw around with me! What do you want?” Derek forces out the words with great vigor.

The man hums in false contemplation. “Well, I want lots of things. Money. A family. And I will have that, if you back off and eh, say… not complete your mission.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” The words leave a sour, bitter taste in his mouth.

His feet move without thought, his muscles shift and his body hums dangerously. He enters his room, stalking toward his closet.

“Well, then this delicate brunette will not be enjoying his stay here. My men are very open minded.”

A piercing scream emits from the cell. Derek halts in his step and squeezes his eyes shut, his heart tightening and his jaw locking. He forces himself not to react, to not expression the gut wrench pain he feels as Stiles’ scream rings through his ears.

“Hmm, my men enjoy screamers, as do my women.”

A cold, benumb feeling washes over him. His body relaxes, his shoulder drop. Derek Hale takes in a calm breath before he speaks into the cell. “Whoever you are… I am going to tell you something very important.”

The man laughs roughly. This is not a time for lessons, Mr Hale.”

“Then how about friendly advice?” Derek offers.

“Yes?”

Thin lips tug up into a deadly smirk. “Never, go after some who means more than life itself to someone else. Especially when that someone is a cold blooded killer.”

He hangs up, his fingers forcefully enclosing around the cell. His hand shakes, energy coursing through his veins. Derek snaps, his hand, clenched tightly around his burner jerks forward as he slams it against the closet door, driving it straight through the wood.

Derek, with his mind blank and incapable of forming a proper plan for the first time in years, slumps forward, allowing the pain burning in his hand to fuel his focus. Stiles’ scream rings through him, a deadly echo. Coldly, Derek opens his eyes and looks down at his phone. Then, without a second’s hesitation, he dials a number he had been given for one purpose only.

D.M answers on the second ring. “10 seconds and I end this call.”

“Someone’s in danger. FBI agent Stilinski. The Boss will never know this phone call happened but I need to know where my previous call came from.”

The dial tone is his only answer.

Derek swallows, his heart pounding against his chest, blood rushing through his ears. He exhales sharply and moves. He rips open the closet door, shoving at the back wall to reveal a secret compartment. He reaches in and takes out his two duffel bags, the weight familiar, urging him, filling him with that blood thirsty desire to hone them once again, to use them on those who have done him wrong.

Walking over to the bed, Derek methodically takes out the contents in the bags. He lays them out on the mattress, his green eyes storming with rage, his arms bulging, veins protruding from beneath his skin as he moves.

Derek slips out of his heavy jeans and shirt. His body burns, his heartbeat slowing down and his mind becoming vigilant. He pulls out his old black cargo pants and his black shirt. He slips on his uniform, the weight of his bulletproof vest strengthening him. Stepping into his combat boots, his footsteps echoes hauntingly around the empty room.

He straps sheathes around his thighs and shrugs on his black leather jacket, moving to slip his arms through his weapon holster, feeling its straps wrap around his shoulders, reviving the assassin to whom they belong.

His cell buzzes.

_Warehouse 8, 25 livington’s street._

Derek’s eyes land on his two personal choices of weapon. The deadly blades that had given him his name and that had ended the lives of those who met their end.

Derek wraps his hands around two swords. The Katana. And he reaches back and slips them in their sheaths.

Like he had told him: Never threaten the love of a killer’s life.

 

                                      **__________________________**

 

The body drops the moment Derek pulls the sword from his gut. Blood splatters on his clothing but he is blind to it. Looking around, Derek walks deeper into the warehouse, his boots making no sound. He reaches back and sheathes his Katana.

The warehouse is dark but from the size, he knows Stiles is on the top floor. Near the far end, Derek knows is a ladder, steel steps that leading to the top, which will probably be guarded.

A sword will do nothing to stop bullet, not with a distracted mind. _Guns it is._

Looking around, he see a small figure moving in the darkness. He narrows his eyes and shifts his eyes to a long pole, leading to the top by his far right. There are metal railings above him and he knows without a doubt that there is someone aiming a gun at him right about now.

A small soft sound echoes through the warehouse.

It’s undetectable to untrained ears but Derek’s body reacts instantly. His hand flies to the gun on his thigh, he lifts his arm, aiming and pulls the trigger. As soon as he hears a grunt, and sees the figure falling from the shadow from the top floor, shots and bullets are flying.

Bangs fills the silence, flashes of light brightening the darkness every second.

Spinning around, Derek speeds to and up the pole. His feet bounces off it as if he is walking and when the distance between him and the railings decreases at just the right amount, Derek pushes himself off it, flying across to one of the bars of the railings.

He flips over, his feet landing on it effortlessly and right next to a gunman. The gunman turns around, aiming the gun to him. Derek slaps the gun away, grabbing his wrist, turning and spinning around the guard’s body. He curls his arm around the man’s neck, shielding himself as bullets flies towards him.

He moves closer, pulling his gun from his holster once more, and aims it at the man far in front of him. The silencer on his gun rings in his ears almost beautifully and Derek takes him out with a head shot.

As he reaches the end, he stops, dropping the bullet riddled body and looks at his next targets. Two men on either side of the T- shaped railing, catches his attention.

Looking left and right, the guards lifts their guns up. Shoots rings out. Derek back flips, tucking his legs to his body, holstering his gun once more, just as both men aim at him effectively shooting themselves.

Landing in a crouch, he pulls the knives from around his calf and spinning around, Derek throws it at the guy behind him, repeating his movement with jerked reflex and his second knife impales the man on the other side of the second T-shape railing.

Breathing out a breath, he straightens himself, looking at the dead bodies littering around him, blood splatters on the rails, coating it.

Raising his head, he stares the metal steps that leads to Stiles. He pulls his gun out and walks to the stairs. Emotionlessly, and with cold green eyes, Derek shoots the man guarding the bottom steps just as the man’s eyes land on.

“Looks like your boyfriend is here.” He hears the deep voice drifting down from the sudden silent warehouse.

He hears the distant checking of guns and knows there are more gunmen on top.

Looking around, Derek sees a small opening, a small gap in the foundation, leading to the top floor. It’s a few steps away from the stairs. Coldly, he makes his ways over it, his black uniform blending into the darkness as he starts climbing the cold pole, leading up the flaw in his enemy’s plan.

His black gloves hands gripping onto the hard, cracked ground of the whole, the only thing standing between him and Stiles. Many people know Derek as the Shadow. His black uniform makes him the master of blending in. The only thing most of his targets see is his eyes. They are a deep bright shade of green-grey that stands out the most, the eyes of ‘The Wolf’, and right now, those eyes are swirling with blood thirsty, raging on and darkening his stare.

“What? Cat got your tongue.” The deep voice asks.

“Screw you.”

The moment the sound of his voice reaches his ears, Derek give one firm and final push and he reaches the top. He raises his body, and is met with a pair of boots. He looks up at the owner before allowing his eyes to scan the area.

Two men guarding the stairs. Another two are standing behind the chair where he is.

Bound to a wooden chair, Stiles glares up at a man Derek now recognizes.

_Malkoy._

With a solid nod at his plan, Derek pulls himself up with all his strength, his arm muscles tightening around his shirt and he flips his body onto the floor. He spins around and kicks the man nearest to him leg’s let out from under, causing him to fall back into the small space, his neck cracking as his bend and fell through.

Bullets hit back and chest and like a spear poking the beast, it only angers him further.

Pulling both of his swords out from behind his back, in one fluid move, he is up. Spinning and twisting around, he decapitates and beheads then all, blood coats his face and bodies falls apart, littering the floor until he is left standing alone.

Panting out heavily through his nose, Derek turns his body around and looks at Stiles’ capture. _Drake Malkoy’s._ The moment his dark green eyes locks with his brown ones, Derek gives him one of his deadliest look.

“So the stories are true.” He comments.

Derek stares at him, saying nothing.

Drake drawls on. “Master of the dark. Perfect shots. Perfect aim. Almost never misses a target. Your reputation precedes you.” He praises.

“Who exactly did you expect?” Derek asks, his voice deep and growling.

Drake chuckles, his bulky form inching closer to Stiles until he situates himself right behind his chair. Derek forces his eyes to remain on Drake, not wanting to see that look Stiles’ eyes. A look that will shatter his mask.

When Drakes slips his fingers through Stiles strands, Derek’s hands tightens around the hilts of his swords.

“A legend that so much more than the man. When one of my men told me he spotted an agent, I did a little digging and image my surprise when I find out the world’s most deadliest and unknown assassin is with a man, living a civilian life.” He glances down at Stiles. “Or at least a cover of one. Now, we all know how you look, dark brown hair, green eyes but there are thousands of people like that whom swore on that you have blue eyes, brown eyes. You can change your appearance but you can’t change your face.”

“So what?” Derek asks. “You figured you take him and I would… leave you be. You must not be man you are known to be.”

Drake chuckles and leans down, placing his head next to Stiles. The younger man cringes, his lips curling in disgust. Derek’s eyes swiftly move past whiskey eyes as he focused on Drake. “I want to know what could make someone like you fall for someone like him. Take away the federal badge and he seemed so mundane.” Drake turns his face and brushes his nose against Stiles’ cheek. “And then I saw it. That fire in his eyes. At first, I wanted nothing to do with him and she changed my mind. Now correct me if I’m mistaken … he doesn’t know who you are, does he?”

Derek's jaw clenched and his teeth sunk into the thick flesh of his tongue.

“Yes. I figured at much. So Mr. Stilinski, what do you think of the man you so firmly defended not so long ago? What do you think of the way he so easily killed every person here. See, Michael over there,” Drake points to a man lay headless by Stiles’ feet. “Michael has a child on the way, sure I was planning on putting a bullet through his head any day now, but Derek didn’t know that and yet he killed him, unflinching at the blood he covered you in.”

He feels Stiles’ burning gaze, he sees the crimson strains on Stiles’ clothes. Knowing there is no other way, Derek allows his eyes to meet his. The whiskey orbs are wide and scare. He stares at Derek, his eyes confused, holding no recognition and no warmth.

It breaks something in him but Derek doesn’t show it. His face remains calm, honing the mask of neutrality. A small flash of silver catches his eye and they snap towards Stiles’ neck, where a blade is pressed dangerous close to his vein.

“You can drop your swords by the way.”

Having no other choice, Derek, with his eyes never leaving Stiles’ neck, lowers himself slightly to the ground. His hand unwraps from the rubber hilts, leaving them feeling bare. He straightens as a cold, demonic smile tugs on Drake’s face.

“Guess he really does love you.” He whisper into Stiles’ ear but Derek hears him loud and clear. His green eyes cuts towards Stiles and he sees the tears building up and wetting his long lashes. Stiles licks his cracked lips and swallows.

“I never doubted that.” Stiles answers, his eyes moving to the side to stare at Drake.

“And now, Stiles? Do you still love the man you see before you now?”

Derek’s heart tightens when those eyes fall back on him. The dead, predator stare Drake has on Stiles, shifts something in him. Derek’s hand twitch and they move to his thighs where his gun are sheathed.

And then Stiles, with eyes locked solely on Derek, shakes his head. “No.” He answers, his voice quivering as tears fall down his cheek.

A knife pierces his beating heart at those words. He wants to break, he wants his mask to fall, to show Stiles the man he knows is still there, buried beneath the killer he before him.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Derek looks away from him completely. He glares at Drake, taking in a cold, icing breath. Drake grins tauntingly at him.

Drake moves his knife away from Stiles but keep his face close to his, half hiding behind him. Derek waits with bated breath and just as the knife is far enough, his body reacts.

The assassin reaches down, pulls out his gun and shoot, impaling the bullet in the wall behind Drake. Jumping at the shot, Drake spins around, following the bullet and Derek makes his move.

Sprinting towards the other man, he closes the distance in one breathe, wrapping his hand around his target’s neck, simultaneously grabbing Drake’s other hand holding the knife. He bends his wrist slowly, painfully until the knife clutters to the floor.

Derek shoves him backwards, slamming Drake against the wall behind him, his hand tightening around his neck.

“You missed.” Drake wheezes out, his pale complexion turning an unkind blue-purple shade. Derek tightens his hold even more, cutting off the circulation of the blood to his brain, a sick satisfaction building within as a vein forms on Drake’s forehead.

Derek leans closer, his lips inches from Drake’s right hear. “I don’t miss, remember.”

Pulling back, Derek watches as terror widened the Drake’s eyes. He watches as the light slowly dies in those dark brown eyes and just as they are about to roll back, Derek lets go of his throat. Drake wheezes and coughs, mouth opening but Derek’s hands snap forward, wrapping his hands behind his head, under the curve of his jaw and jerks it to the side, the loud crack echoing around the room.

As the body drops, Derek feels a cold chill fill him.

He shutters out a breath, gaining his bearings and spins around. Swallowing down his anger, Derek rounds to face Stiles, dropping down on his knees. He reaches for his sword and cuts the binds wrapped around his ankles. He works methodically, his face hidden and his eyes emotionless. He doesn’t look Stiles in the eye, he just focuses on the task to untying his hand and legs from the chair.

The moment his limbs are free, much to Derek’ utter shock, arms wrap themselves around his neck and a wet face his buried into his shoulder. His hands shake as they stand up helpless behind Stiles. He doesn’t want to touch him, not after what he had just done. But the embrace tightens painfully and Derek, hesitantly, wraps his arm around his back as Stiles’ releases a soft sob.

He squeezes his eyes shut at the sound, knowing the shock and the confusion from having his whole world turned upside down has made Stiles irrational.

He recalls the question Drake had asked him and the broken ‘no’ that answered. His heart, blacked and barely holding together, hardens in a foolish attempt to remain whole.

Weakly, the arms drops from around him and Stiles fall back.

Derek takes him in, the split lip, the bruise that darkened his once flawless skin. Cheeks are soaked with tears and his chest raises rapidly, inhaling and exhaling.

Whiskey eyes meet his.

“It’s just a man.” Stiles weakly, his eyes gazing over momentarily. “It’s not his heart.”

Derek opens his mouth. “But you said…”

Stiles leans over suddenly, his hot breathe fanning against Derek’s skin. Hands grasp his face. “I was talking about the gun. Not you.”

And then Stiles’ eyes rolls back, his body slumps forward as he passes out.


	8. Secrets & Lies (Hush Hush Now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Ruelle- Secrets & Lies and Avril Levigne- Hush Hush

The beeping of the heart rate monitor is the only sound in the room.

Derek sits stiffly beside Stiles’ hospital bed, clutching his hand. The other seat on the opposite side is vacant, leaving Derek for the first time completely alone with Stiles since he was brought in.

With nothing to do but stare and allow the past events to invade his thoughts, Derek can’t help but twist the knife further in his chest by running his eyes over Stiles, taking in the bruises, deep purple and angry red, on the side of his face. He lowers his eyes to the casted arm.

_The doctors say Stiles no doubt fought back against his attackers._

There is an IV in his right arm, giving Stiles the needed fluids and pain medicine.

_Doctors’ say it was the adrenaline, so Stiles wasn’t aware how his body felt, which is why he kept punching and punching with his sprained wrist._

It has been one day, one long, terror inducing day and as the minutes ticked by Derek feels more and more lost than ever. He can’t breathe, he has had two panic attacks since entering the hospital, something he had suffered from since Kate.

He feels cold and lifeless, like someone had taken his soul and left him in those empty hollowed structure of a man.

Kate… He remembers what Drake said: _At first, I wanted nothing to do with him and she changed my mind._

She is still out there… She is still alive. He knows it. He can feel it.

A small squeeze of his hand yanks Derek back into the chemical scented room and out from his hell-fired mind. His head snaps towards Stiles, his heart pounding against his chest as he holds his breath, his eyes fixed on the younger man; watching and waiting until those eyes flutters open, revealing warm whiskey orbs.

Derek pushes himself up off the chair in a flash, the legs scraping against the floor. His free hand flies to cup Stiles’ face, whose eyes are wondering around, to get them to focus on Derek, to ground him to something. He reaches over and presses the call button before moving to grip Stiles’ hand.

“Stiles?” His voice comes out deeper and gruffer from hours of disuse.

“Der-Derek?” Stiles mutters, his voice croaky and weak.

Letting go of his face, Derek reaches over for the plastic cup of water. Bringing it to busted lips, he lets go of Stiles’ hand and helps hold up his neck up, so he can take a sip. He waits, his stomach churning as Stiles drank, coughing only once.

With dread, Derek turns around once he is done and places the cup back on its place. He draws strength from Stiles’ presence, from the knowledge that Stiles is okay and turns to face him, the guilt and the pain cracking his already fragile temperament.

Not knowing what to do or say, Derek moves back and sits down on the empty chair once more. He runs a hand over his face, trying to wash his face of any emotions that might affect Stiles in a negative way. He doesn’t need to see the battle waging on within Derek.

 _He shouldn’t even be here!_ All he was meant to do, was get Stiles to the hospital and leave but when the nurses asked if Stiles had any family, Derek’s mouth ran ahead of him.

“You going to talk to me?”

Slowly, Derek raises his pale green eyes to Stiles to see him shifting on his bed, trying to sit up slightly on the bed and frowning down at his casted arm resting on his stomach. Stiles raises his eyebrows at him when Derek remains silent.

He doesn’t know what to say, in fear that his truth will be thrown back in his face.

“Was it true?” Stiles speaks up once more, his voice strong and firm. “What the man said about you? About what you do? Was that the truth?”

Derek clenches his jaw and looks Stiles straight in the eyes, not saying anything. He can’t. He doesn’t know want to say, but at the same time does. He wants to lie to him and tell him it was just the rambling of a mad man and that the guy Stiles has been with for the past two month is not an assassin… that they didn’t meet because Derek is on a mission and needed to stay low.

He wants to lie to him, but can’t. _He won’t._

Stiles stares at him, finding his answer in Derek’s chosen silence. Scoffing, he rolls his eyes away from him but Derek can see the buildup of tears glimmering near the edges.

Stiles bits down on his lip, staring at the door, his hand shifting away from Derek. At the small act, Derek feels his heart crack but he continues to stares helplessly at Stiles, a bitter, self-loathing part of himself wanting to break, to reap what he had sowed all those weeks ago. He deserves this pain, he deserves to have his heart ripped from his chest.

Derek opens his mouth, to try and explain or say something but he gets cut off by the door opening.

Entering, is a mid-thirty woman, whom smiles and greets them both warmly. Derek focuses instead on her, watching as she starts questioning with Stiles. He analyses her with steel hard eyes, looking over her as she checks over Stiles, making sure everything is alright with him.

When she turns to leave, she gives Stiles and Derek both a kind smile which Derek is forced to return.

They both wait until she walks out and the door closes behind her before turning, instinctively, to meet the other’s eyes.

This time, Derek is the one to break the silent, needing to say what he fear he may never get the chance to.

“Yes.” He forces out. “It was true. All of it.” His cold voice cracks near the end.

Stiles stare at him, his eyes numbly locked with Derek’s. If this is any other day, Derek would have leaned over and kissed him back to reality but today is not like any other day. Today in the end of something Derek knows he will surely die without.

Stiles clenches his jaw, his eyes blazing with fury. “Was it a lie?” He asks.

“No!” Derek states vigorously, shaking his head, wanting that thought out of Stiles’ mind before it has the chance to start planting any doubts.

“So you aren’t a… trained assassin?”

The question weakens the strength Derek needs to finish what he knows he has to do.

His eyes fall shut and he leans forward, his elbows bracing themselves on the side of the bed. Derek bows his head mournfully, burying his fingers in his hair and gripping onto it. He squeezes his eyes tightly, trying to force himself to calm down, to gather this bearing.

After a long moment of silence, with Stiles’ gaze burning into him, Derek raises his head, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

“I never meant for you to find out.” He finds himself saying.

He turns his head and looks at Stiles. Taking his silence as a queue, Derek continues, the words spilling out, “when I met you, I didn’t think we would ever be… this. I never meant for you to find out because I never thought there would ever be a reason to.”

Stiles swallows and blinks at him. From the corner of his eyes, he sees his free hand curl into a fist, gripping the bed sheet and all Derek wants to do is reach out and take his hand in his, to feel this soft skin and to feel the warm of his palm in Derek’s, to comfort him, to be there for him.

He chokes out, “And then it did. I fell for you, so hard and so fast and I never—I didn’t know what to do about that, so I lied, to you, to myself. I convinced myself that I could be with you and that everything was perfect.”

“So, what? I’m a bullshit fantasy? There for only your fucking pleasure?” Stiles shouts at him. “When you asked me out, were you just looking for company until you got the ‘go ahead’ to kill someone?! Was I just there to light your fucking day and keep you busy until your real life needed you?”

His words are like sharp daggers, stabbing him with each words that Stiles’ spits out. Derek gulps down the lump growing in his throat, feeling the anger radiating off Stiles, burning him. He can see the pain in Stiles’ eyes and to know that he caused that, to know that he was responsible for his suffering and his fury, makes him sick.

Stiles isn’t an angry person. That is one of the brightest things about him. Sure, he gets passionate and when he’s frustrated about something, he rambles and speaks a little louder than usual but he never raises his voice at Derek, he always _speaks_ to him.

_“Answer me!”_

“I can’t.” Derek grounds out. “I want to tell you everything you want to hear but I can’t lie to you, Stiles.”

“Yet, you have been lying to me for two months. Your scars that you got in _construction work_. I knew you were lying but I also, beyond as shadow of a doubt, that I _loved_ you, so if was a reason for that, any reason, I would wait and be there for you when you would open to me but that wasn’t true, was it? I am an FBI agent, for fucks sake, who refused to do a background check on you because I saw the kindness in your eyes and I knew, in my heart, that there was no way you could be a bad person. I went to work, thinking about you, I let my friend and my family get to know you! I thought I was getting you and I--” Tears break free, and spills down Stiles’ cheeks. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Yes you do.” Derek states firmly, his eyes boring into Stiles. He reaches out, curling his fingers around the resistant hand.

“No I don’t.” Stiles shakes his head, tugging his hand away.

“Derek Hale. That’s who I am.” He speaks over Stiles, tightening his grip, holding on for dear life, desperate for Stiles to hear every word, to believe everything that Derek is telling him.

“Really? So it isn’t a name you used as a cover. So your real name isn’t, what, John Matthews or Aiden Rogers? Those men don’t have someone just like me out there waiting for you to come back? There isn’t someone who fell for you, just like me, out there waiting for you to come back home?”

Derek shuts his eyes as they burned with tears and shakes his head. “They’re not me.” He looks up, oblivious to the tears that are trailing down his cheeks as he speaks. “Okay? John Matthews was a serious guy, with a tattoo on his back of a triskelion. He liked partying and worked as a bartender in Los Angeles, in a club were a rich guy, by the name of David Adams liked to go. When David wasn’t looking, John spiked his drink with snake venom.”

Stiles’ shoulders are shaking and the tears are pouring from his eyes. He asked him once about the tattoo and Derek had told him that it was a reminder that everyone has the power to fall but they also have the strength to rise up.

“Aiden Rogers, was a punk rocker who has a thing for wild girls…”

 _“Stop._ ”

Derek stops, frozen in fear and shock. He doesn’t know why he had just said all those things. In a desperate attempt to reveal the man he was with Stiles is the real him, he had spoken of the past men whom has ruled his life before Stiles.

Stiles cheeks are damp and his once brilliant whiskey eyes are dulled by betrayal. He slips his hand out of Derek’s hold and brings it up to the leather cord necklace Derek had given him, just three weeks ago.

“I’m sorry.” Derek breathes out the words helplessly.

Stiles looks at him sharply once more. He stares at Derek and it’s as if the time has somehow slowed down. Just to taunt him, just to increase his agony by a fraction more with each passing second, to length his pain and to break him further down.

Finally Stiles lets out a soft breathe and rolls his eyes with a shake of the head.

“I don’t care.”

Derek looks away. He feels the person he has been trying, so desperately, to hold onto, whither and die inside him and with a pained and forced nod, he presses his open palms down on the bed to lift himself up, ready to do the hardest thing he has ever had to do.

“You love me, right?”

The question catches him off guard and causes him to stop midway. Derek returns his eyes to Stiles, to stare at him. His dark brows furrow together in confusion. Stiles looks up at him, his eyes dancing over his face, seeking, trying to find an answer to an unknown question. And Derek hopes he finds it.

“Because if you love me, then we can work it out.” Stiles tells him, his voice firm and determined. “If you love enough, we can find a way to be together, because if Derek Hale is who you really are then you should know by now how I feel about you. If the man you were with me for those two months was who you really are, then I want that man in my life.”

“Stiles…”

“Because a name is just a name. It’s the heart that counts.” He adds in a hopeful tone.

Derek stares at him in utter disbelief. Stiles’ words play over and over in Derek mind, a constant steady push, reviving a soul that he had thought he’d lost. Derek finds himself staring, dumbfounded, at the man before him, not believing that this remarkable, amazing person loves him even after learning the truth.

Stiles is willing to be in his life, even after he was beaten and taken just for that, _being in his life_.

This man, who took one look at his scars and told them they were just scars. The man who laid with him after one of his nightmares, staring into his eyes reassuringly, facing him as his hand caressed his jaw and cheek, waiting and watching as Derek found his ground, never seeing him as weak for his misgivings.

This amazing man…

“We can’t be together.” Derek whisper out, broken at the very idea.

Stiles tenses up in his bed, pushing himself up with his one hand. He grimace and Derek had to force himself not to reach over and push him back down. “Why?”

Derek takes a step back, moving away from Stiles’ bed and him all together. The weight of his life crashes down in that one instant, and he knows what he has to do. Derek crosses his arms over his chest and lulls his body into a false sense of calmness.

“My life…” He searches for the proper words, “it is dark and the people I work with will kill you in a second if they ever found out about you. People like me can’t have distractions and you are the perfect instrument for a distraction.”

Stiles looks at him, his eyes wide, filled with confusion. He opens his mouth to say something but Derek cuts him off, his voice stronger and firmer in the knowledge that he is doing this for Stiles.

“That is why after I walk out that door, you will never hear from or see me again.” He swallows down the thick lump in his throat. “It will be like I never existed.”

Stiles exhales, as if Derek had physically punched him. “And like you never loved me.” He adds.

Derek allows his eyes to fall shut at his broken words, knowing the truth is much darker than that. He takes in a calm breathe before opening them. “Exactly.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Bright green-grey eyes flash towards the bed and he swallows down the groan building up in his throat at the pure stubbornness dominating those whiskey eyes. He hates and loves that look. He can’t have Stiles fighting for him, because once he has his mind set one something, he almost always gets it.

“If you love someone and they love you, you will always find your way to each other.” Stiles quotes. “You told me that a week after our first date, you remember? It was about my book and I told you that…”

“Love without hardship isn’t really love. It’s more like a delusion that life isn’t worth the fight.” Derek finishes.

A bright smiles spreads across Stiles’ face as he looks up at Derek and his hand finds his necklace once more, “So go. If you think that there isn’t as small possibility that we will always find out way to each other, then walk out that door. But if you see your life with me, then allow me to be in it.”

Derek stares down at Stiles in small heart breaking moment, memorizing those bright whiskey eyes that are imploring him to stay, those soft, pink lips pressed together in determination. He recalls the feeling of having Stiles’ arms around him, holding him and grounding him to a reality that is theirs’ and only theirs.

With those memories locked deep in his heart, Derek closes the small distance between himself and Stiles. Their eyes remain locked, holding so much love yet so much pain. Derek bends down, gently taking hold of Stiles’ chin, lifting his head as he presses his lips against those soft pillows.

Derek closes his eyes, locking in the warmth, the love and the light that bursts within him from this one kiss. He hold it, opening his lips just once to capture Stile’s top lip, imprinting the sensation and that taste on his own and then… he forces himself to pull away.

Opening his eyes, he allows him to get lost in Stiles’ kind, intelligent eyes.

With one last meaningful stare, Derek drops his chin and moves away. He takes his leather jacket that’s hanging behind his chair, clenching the material in his right fist and walks out of the room, never once looking back.


	9. Find My Way Back To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title speaks for itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is it! Thank you so so so much for sticking with this story and continuing to read.
> 
> Love Y'all ! <3

The salty breeze brushes against his face, the air chilly. The sky is a brilliant clear blue with the sun high above, shining down on the ocean below, it’s rays twinkling off the water, like millions of tiny diamonds. In his black ripped jeans and leather jacket, he stands out like sore thumb with all the swim wearing wonders.

On a high up cliff, the waves crashing beneath him, he takes in all the laughing strangers around him, some lounging, and some running on the sand shores. Looking out into the beautiful landscape before him, Derek, seated on his sleek black Ducati 1098, waits calmly for his call.

As if reading his mind, his burner rings. He vibrates in his palms and Derek answers the call, lifting the device to his ear, saying nothing.

“Good job, agent.”

Silence follows on his end. Derek clenches his jaw at her modulated voice and continues staring at ocean before him.

“We were worried you may have lost your touch.”

“It’s been a year, ma’am.” Derek states, looking around at the people through his ray-bands.

“Indeed it has.” There is a beat of silence. Derek knows its sole purpose is to rise the anticipation of the next mission… the next kill. “There is a target in Russia. We…”

“Actually, no.” Derek cuts her off, his voice clear and casual. As the words leave his mouth, months of worry and fear that he will not be able to go forth with his plan, drops, leaving his body feeling weightless.

“I’m done.” He knows they can’t see him but he can’t help but scan the surrounding areas.

“ _Agent_.”

“Consider me, retired.” He tells her firmly.

“There is only one way you leave this business, Agent.”

Derek laughs into the phone. “So I’ve been told. Which is why I am making this very clear to you and the Agency, after I end this call, I’m done. There is no Jason Bishop, or Logan Scott, or John Matthews. If you decide to come after me, know that I will be waiting. But keep in mind, _ma’am_ , I have been in this business for 15 years and if I so much as _feel_ your people’s eyes on me, I will kill every single agent you send after me or anyone I know.”

Not waiting for an answer, Derek hangs up. He reels his arm back and tosses the cell into the ocean. He watches with great satisfaction as it drops into the water, taking with it the life that he had and the chains that linked to the heartless killer he was forced to be. Derek feels the unimaginable weight lift from his shoulders. With a smirk and a new path ahead of him, Derek turns of the ignition of the Ducati, shouldering his duffel back.

He turns his bike and looks ahead of him to a large stretch of road up ahead, beckoning him forth and with a rev of his engine he takes off, leaving a streak of smoke behind him.

 

                                      **____________________________**

 

His heart hammers against his chest.

Taking in a deep breathe, Derek raises his fist and pounds it against the door.

He takes a step back and looks over his shoulder scanning his surroundings. It’s a habit he will never kick and he knows for the years to come, he will be looking over his shoulders for a long time. He waits, his heart beating and his mind raising. It’s been a year and two months. It’s has taken longer that he had intended, but after searching for two months he has found him. Having moved away to live in Washington DC and taken a new post shortly after Derek left.

He isn’t married, that much Derek knows. He hadn’t wanted to dig too deep, in fear that through his searching he will accidentally place a blinking beacon on his location.

After he’d done what he promised himself he would and with the peace of mind that’s Kate has a bullet in her head, only then did he take the first step into finding Stiles. It has taken months of diverting the agency from his trail, before he even started looking into Stiles’ location.

And the instant he found it, he left his hide out in Rome, his mind and body working together with on clear destination in sight.

He isn’t thinking straight because the moment he got the address, he’s mind has been a blank, clear of all darkened thoughts, his heart free of the burdening, weighing fear ad guilt that had fallen on him.

He hears a shuffle from within.

Seconds later, the door opens and Derek’s head snaps up, his heart stopping. His breath hitches in his throat as his eyes fall on the vision that is _him_.

He looks different. His spiky, messy hair no longer stands on ends but is gelled back, his once youthful futures have faded, leaving behind a mature, older looking man, with a hint of a beard on his pale cheeks. His jaw line is still as sharp as he can remember, more defined now than ever, accentuated by the perfectly placed beauty marks.

There is a small scar, a thin sliver by his hairline and Derek’s eyes finally meets the one thing he had missed, that he has dreamed of…

Wide whiskey eyes locks with his, those warm orbs bright with shock, confusion, and disbelief, glimmering with the tears that are slowly building up.

“Derek?”

He says his name in a soft whisper, as if speaking out loud will cause Derek to disappear into thin air. His slightly deep voice reaches Derek’s ears, a familiar melody that his heart jumps in time to, thundering from within at the sound it has longed to hear for all those months he spend alone and without it’s other half.

Derek stands frozen in his place, his hands limp in his pockets, his body having lost all mobility and sense, but his lips, working on their own accord, tugs up into a smile, a smile that hasn’t graced his face since the day he walked out of that hospital room.

“Stiles.” Derek speaks his name, like a prayer by a pleading man.

“Oh my god.” Stiles breathes out.

In a blink of an eyes, Stiles is gone from his spot by the door, his body crushing against Derek’s with so much force the other man stumbled back. His body burns, warming the cold, hollowed shell at the contact. The familiar spice of Stiles’ scent encompasses him, reviving him and Derek’s arms natural curl around his waist and back, encasing his body against his.

Stiles’ breath stutters into his neck. Tears form in Derek’s eyes when the arms around his neck tighten, when fingers tangle through his hair, pulling him even closer. Derek turns and buries his face in that warm, sweet neck, inhaling Stiles, forcing his body to believe that this is not a dream, that Stiles is really here and in his arms. His mind is screaming, a small part of him, fighting to hold onto his guard, to not fall over completely, to not lose himself in the man in his arms.

After what feels like hours of just basking in each other’s presence, Stiles pulls away. Derek had to fight against everything to allow him to move, but thankfully, Stiles hands moves to cup his neck, making it easier for Derek to keep holding onto him.

Stiles traces his faces those eager eyes. Derek feels his fingers slip through his longer hair and his beard. He remembers the clean shaved face he had with Stiles, he remember the short, cropped hair and he knows, though nothing outwardly has changed much about him, he knows he is a different man.

As is Stiles…

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Stiles whispers almost to himself. His thumb strokes down the side of his neck where three, harsh scars lined the circumference.

He opens his mouth and then closes it again, as dumbfounded as Derek is. He has so much to say but now, finally standing before Stiles, he finds all the words, all the speeches seem inadequate to express his utter joy.

“I missed you so much.” Stiles shakes his head as he says so.

His hands tighten around Derek’s neck and he pulls him close, their lips meeting, crashing together like two waves destined to be one. Derek moans at the searing kiss, wasting no time to open his mouth and welcome Stiles’ in. Their tongue meet, a spark of energy shoots down his spine at the touch and the continued strokes.

He has waited so long, he has dreamed of this day, to feeling Stiles’ body pressed against his again, to taste his sweet, soft lips. But with those dreams, came the nightmares. Nightmares fueled by the terror that his life would infect the light of Stiles’, by the fear that they will find Stiles and take him off the board of the chess game that was his life and that they controlled. And by the pain he has prepared for, should he see Stiles and see a smile on his face that isn’t his doing, to see a life Stiles’ had built for himself. A life without Derek.

Slowly, reluctantly, Derek pulls away, his lips stretching to remain locked with Stiles. He inhales deeply, panting for breath. He closes his eyes as a heavy weight lands on his forehead, feeling Stiles’ warm breathe fan against his lips.

“If you love them and they love you, you will find your way to each other… right?” He asks desperately.

A sob tears through Stiles and he nods. “Right.” He says.

Opening his eyes, Derek leans back, his hands lifting to cup Stiles’ face, holding him gently in his palms. Teary eyes mirrors his.

“I never thought I’d see you again. I waited, Derek. I did. And then months when on and I…” Stiles swallows. “There’s no one. I couldn’t find in myself to be with someone else.”

“I never expected you to wait for me.” Derek confesses.

Stiles licks his lips and Derek feels the callous pads of a thumbs stroking his cheeks, leaving it wet. He blinks, having not realized he has spilled the tears he has tried so hard to keep in. He clenches his jaw as he feels two salty tears trail down his cheeks and this time Stiles lets them fall.

“I think…” Stiles says to him, his eyes flicking back and forth, glowing with love. “I think I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Derek. Long before I even met you.”

Uncomprehending joy courses through him, revealing itself in the blinding smile that break out across Derek’s face.

“My name is Oliver now, actually.”

Stiles' lip part and a beat of silence follows before laughter bursts forth from Derek and Stiles. The younger man leans forward, pulling Derek into a tight embrace, his chest vibrating against his.

“Your name came be Tanner for all I care, I’m just happy to have you here.” Stiles says into his ear. “And we can talk about all the shit I know we have to later, much later.”

He hears the hidden message and he acknowledges it by tightening his hold on Stiles, burying his face into his neck and losing himself in those strong arms, basking in the feeling of everything that is Stiles, in the love that burn’s through him.

Later, as Derek and Stiles lay in his bed, tear strains on both their cheeks, exhausted by the day, mentally, emotionally, physically, Derek closes his eyes in peace, his body no longer tense, ready to run at any second, his mind calm and silence for the first time in one year and two months… for he is home.

He is _with_ his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: The name Logan Scott is the original character that I used when I first wrote this story, long before Sterek drew me in and way long before I started posting my own stories.
> 
> And I heard the: 'You love someone and they love you' quote somewhere years ago and it has always stuck with.


End file.
